


i imagine life so much it feels like a memory

by OMGTHEFEEL



Series: dreaming of stardust and sunshine (with the taste of copper in my mouth) [1]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Childhood, Fluff, Gen, Kid - Freeform, M/M, Not Really Character Death, POV Alternating, Pining, Seer, Seungri POV, Sort Of, but i hope it turns out ok, i have no idea what im doing, i should be studying, i think, it's very easy to fall in love with seungri, jiyong pov, mmmmmmmmmhmhhm, not that much angst though, outsider pov, seer seungri, seungri is a seer, soft, spontaneous editing will leave you speechless, what am I even doing, what is life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-07-28 06:32:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16236137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMGTHEFEEL/pseuds/OMGTHEFEEL
Summary: Seungri dreams of a life where- he lives, he sings, he dances, he acts, he cries, he screams, he loves so much it hurts -he's someone else. He dreams so much that it's hard to see what's real and what's not, but it doesn't scare him, not really. (He knows what he has to do to be happy.)Jiyong has his whole life planned out. He knows that he likes to dance, likes to rap, likes to sing. He knows what he has to do to be happy, he just has to work hard enough. But above all else, that boy; that boy with his sweet smiles and bright eyes and prophetic words. (Jiyong wants him.)...otherwise known as the fic where Seungri might be a Seer and Jiyong is enamored.*AGAIN! STILL ALIVE JUST PROCRASTINATING AND DYING 06/17/18**CHAPTERS EDITED 5/13





	1. this is how it starts

**Author's Note:**

> exams are coming and boy am i stressed. :(((  
> i got inspired. i want to enjoy the time we have left before seungri goes to service so i'm finally gonna contribute!! ot5 foreveer!! bigbang fighting!!

**chapter one**

 

It starts when he is little; too young to understand what he was seeing, too young to realize what they were saying but he had liked them all nonetheless— although that might have been partially due to the bubbly colors and brilliant light that came along with these visions. But nonetheless.  

It starts with soft murmurs and ever-so-quiet whispers; it starts off good.

 

***

 

> "Seungri-ah," a man with brown, warm eyes whispers to him. His voice is brim to the full with a curious fondness and it spills over and fills the room with something that feels like sunshine and happiness. The little boy thinks he might want to swim in it; that warm brightness. "You are so beloved."
> 
> The man's face and the sunlight seeping through the blinds onto soft, white blankets. It is spring and the flowers blossoming in the little boy's eyes are reflected by the flowers blooming outside. The little boy closes his eyes at the feeling of someone's hand in his hair. "Seungri-ah, you are loved."

  

***

 

The little boy grows older like all children do, and in the blink of an eye, that small baby—  _barely the size of two oranges, his dad would sob_  —becomes a mischievous toddler who had everyone wrapped around his tiny pinky and couldn't stay quiet for the life of him and was known for looking at the world with eyes that said there was nothing not worth loving to him.

And the little boy guesses that the man with brown eyes was right, he did grow up loved.

 

***

 

The dreams continued on for the next three years of the little boy's life. He dreams of warm smiles and loud laughter and sunlight on glittering sand and wet rain under the gentle morning light, and he  _learns_.

He learns, under the burning guidance of a man, whose hair never stayed the same, how to stand and how to walk; at first with shaky limbs but later, strong and solid, like a titan: immeasurable, invulnerable,  _immovable_. 

He learns, under the solid guidance of a man, whose eyes are always creased in a smile, how to talk; to yell, to whisper, to cry, to coo, to croon, to bellow, to  _laugh_ , and sing with a voice that is as deep as the soul and as light as drifting clouds.

He learns, under the quiet guidance of a man, whose face was gentle and smile lit up like the sun, how to take the time to breathe; listening to the sound of trees rustling in the breeze outside an open window and hearing the soft murmurs of a hidden stream and bumblebees and stones skipping across a puddle.

He learns, under the steady guidance of a man, whose grin was always tinted with a childish mischief, how to live vicariously; colorful bubbles popping on bursting on white shirts, warm water on soft skin, and the sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet with cold noses and cheeks tinted with pink.

He learns under brown eyes and gold crowns and loud music in the darkest of nights.

 

***

 

His mama pokes his chubby tummy with a wide, amused smile playing across her lips. Seungri giggles at her and tries to push her persistent fingers away, completely failing with his small hands. She laughs at his efforts loudly; the sound is clear and airy, and she quickly captures his hands in her larger ones, growling at him mischievously. Mama pretends to bite at his tiny fists, playfully rubbing them against her cheeks as Seungri shrieks delightedly at her antics.

He pats her cheeks imperiously, with all the elegance and demand of a prince— an adorable, precocious prince and she obligingly bares her teeth for him to examine.

Her eyes twinkle with her usual mad amusement each time Seungri does this but Seungri ignores it with ease because even though Seungri knows that his mama isn't a tiger, he likes to check. Just to make sure. "My little Seunghyun-ah," she coos at him once he finishes his daily check of making sure his mama isn't secretly a tiger, and grins when Seungri whines at her plaintively.

"Mama," Seungri pleads pitifully, because this is fifth time he's reminded her that his name wasn't Seunghyun. He narrows his eyes into a short glare, and his mouth curls into what he thinks is a disapproving frown but it resembles more of an adorable pout than anything else.

She pretends to be apologetic but her eyes are sparkling with mirth, he had a feeling his mama was teasing him and frowns even harder. There's a helpless ball of energy bouncing in his chest and Seungri wants to whine at her, maybe throw a tantrum too but he won't because that's not nice and Seungri is too old for tantrum and he can't tell her why he's so upset over his name. Not when Seungri can't even understand why himself.

So he won't tell her why— not yet.

He needs more  _time_.

 

***

 

 _"We are Little Roora!"_  A group of children chorus at the camera, they wave their hands at the camera in that endearing way that children do— an awkward jerk of their hand that bordered on being too enthusiastic or too energetic.

The music turns on and the group quickly breaks off into a dance, and Seungri notes, that the performance wasn't anything particularly noteworthy. Two of the kids kept freezing each time the camera came near them, while the other two had the tendency to break into smiles in the middle of their singing. If Seungri could say one positive thing about them, it was that they were all somewhat in sync at least. 

All in all, they were a complete mess, Seungri observes.

 _It was good enough_ , a tiny part of Seungri, the part that still thinks cameras are scary and can't dance without falling down at the end and bursting into giggles, insists. And Seungri supposes he might be a little harsh. Not every toddler had the advantage he has after all.

(And maybe there's something sad about that. Just a little, just enough for Seungri to feel lonely.)

"Seunghyun-ah, do you like them?" Mama asks him, and wraps her arms around his waist, settling him in her lap. She plays with his fingers absentmindedly, pressing his soft hands against her cheeks and kissing them; Seungri tries not to think about how familiar it feels to be like this.

 

> Soft hands and long fingers around his waist, a sharp chin digging into the crook of his neck, and the smell of something that reminds Seungri of safety. Seungri makes sure not to squirm any more than he has to even though he feels really weird sitting in his hyung's lap because there had been no more chairs left and his hyung was so nice to offer Seungri a spot to sit on, so he can't make his hyung regret doing so. 
> 
> It still felt weird though. And ticklish.
> 
> His hyung laughs when Seungri tries to stealthily lean forward and his breath warms the skin beneath his ear. "Are you embarrassed maknae?" he whispers. Seungri tries not to flush.

 

"Is my little Seunghyun-ah interested in being a singer?" 

Seungri blinks and lets her question run through his head, taking a moment to wash away the lingering fogginess that comes with his dreams. He pouts. "Mama, I'm Seungri!  _Se-ung-ri!_ " He articulates the name clearly, curls his tongue around the syllables with a careful reverence and savors the way it sounds in the air. It feels a little like he's breathing life into a dream; it's a reminder, in a way, that 'Seungri' did—  _does_ —exist. That those men existed, somewhere out there, and that their fondness for 'Seungri' was  _real_.

Seungri knows this isn't something toddlers should be worrying about.

Mama laughs at him indulgently and diligently repeats it, pretending as if she understood the importance of that name: "Yes, yes. My little Seungri-ah." 

Seungri knows she doesn't understand.

He sighs exaggeratedly at her, puffing out his cheeks the way he knows melts people’s hearts, and squints contentedly when his mama predictably peppers warm kisses all over his face. Even if it hurts to know that his mama can't understand him— not when it comes to this— he still loves her. Seungri has been alone before, he can handle this. 

Seungri smiles sweetly, as radiant as a flower, and he pushes himself from her arms. He points at the small TV-screen, where Little Roora was still dancing and singing and says to her, "I'm going to do that one day!"

And his mama smiles at him, just as indulgent as before and promises to sign him up for lessons when he's old enough. There is no doubt or hesitation in her eyes, she doesn't question his decision at all and Seungri loves her even more for it.

Seungri takes one last glance at the screen, and then back at her, before he closes his eyes.

 

***

 

 _On the screen, there is a six-year-old boy with brown, brown eyes._  

_He's grinning cheekily at the camera, rapping and dancing as if it was all he wanted to do in life; as if it was all he was put on earth to do._

_On the screen, there is a boy who makes Seungri want to cry._

 

*** 

  

> "Tick tock, tick tock," a little boy says to a tree. "The clock has re-winded, the curtain has been set, and I wonder." The little boy tilts his head slightly, "What my role is this time?" 
> 
> The tree shimmers faintly in answer and with that small movement, a timeless, green-shade illuminates the dark skies. The little boy looks at the tree and the path it's laid out before him, carved into the stars like little save-points; choices and choices and choices.
> 
> The little boys and reaches out to touch one, he blinks momentarily at the bright image of a cross before closing his eyes and going back to sleep.  

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bbbaby why are you so serious


	2. this is what she remembers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she's happy. she really is. she loves her husband and baby who's beyond adorable and cheerful but, she worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna edit. so if things look different when you reread it then hmmmmmm oopsies,,, what are religions,, i'm sorry

  

**chapter two**

 

Lee Hyun-Sook had spent nine months hearing about maternal affection. She spent nine months hearing about how it was as natural an instinct as eating and twice as vital, but secretly, Hyun-Sook feared she wouldn't experience it herself. Oh  _hananim,_ she didn't even think she was ready to be a mom. Everything had been so rushed and she couldn't help but worry— what if they didn't have enough money. What if she became a bad mom? What if something went  _wrong?_ But her husband had looked so, so happy and nothing could ever bring her to wipe that look off his face.

So Hyun-Sook did what she always did, she sucked it up, bought books like  _What-to-Expect-During-Pregnancy_ and  _Motherhood Today,_ and began reading about what to expect after childbirth.

But nothing,  _nothing_  could've possibly prepared herself for the arrival of her baby boy, and she's sure it had nothing to do with her fears of motherhood.

 

***

 

She was in labor for nine hours— an average amount of time, the doctors had later assured her— and after her baby was born, Hyun-Sook hadn't felt that instinctive panic her books had warned her about; no guilty train of ' _he's ugly and wrinkly and fragile and what now?_ ' As she held her son in her arms, the enormity of it, the realization of being  _responsible_  for an entire life, had punched her in the chest and taken her breath away. 

 _Lee Seunghyun,_  they had decided on the name four months ago. She whispered it to him softly, "Seunghyun-ah." and he had smiled.

(Hyun-Sook would later come to associate him as a kind child who always smiled for no reason at all, if only to make others around him  happier.)

His smile was small and warm, impossibly soft and as Hyun-Sook watched it pull at the corners of his mouth, she though it had felt a lot like falling in love. Something slow and beautiful, almost inevitable. She held him so gently, half-terrified that she would crush him in her arms, and laid his head on her breast.

He was the quietest little thing, Hyun-Sook marveled.

Hyun-Sook had counted his toes, his fingers, and nose— she died a little inside at how tiny they were. It was as if her chest had opened up like a flower, blossomed and raveled itself around her ribs as she watched her little boy learn how to giggle and gurgle. Almost all the books she had read told her that babies weren't supposed to react like this, at least, not until after the first four months had passed by. 

Different, Hyun-Sook had decided. Lee Seunghyun was different.

 

***

 

She knows that every lovesick-mother must think this in regards to their children, but Hyun-Sook knows, with every fiber of her being, as if  _Hananim_  himself had whispered the truth inside her ear: Lee Seunghyun was  _special_.

 

***

 

Lee Seunghyun greets the world like a mourner, with tearful, broken cries and curled toes and grasping hands reaching for something that couldn't be seen. What was he reaching for, Hyun-Sook would later wonder but could never truly bring herself to ask, just like how she could never gather up the courage to question the visions she got before his birth.

He was wiggling ball of warmth, full of soft whines and softer fists; a displeased look on his still-wrinkly-red face. Hyun-Sook could not have been more enamored with him.  

"He's beautiful," her husband whispers. His voice is clogged with tears, he's always been terrible at hiding his emotions Hyun-Sook notes amusedly, but she could understand. She was close to tears herself. 

Her little Seunghyun wiggles his tiny, tiny hands and moves as much as his limited motor functions could allow. Hyun-Sook's chest is tight and she manages to pull him closer to her through blurry eyes.

He clumsily curls his tiny hand around her finger and with it, curls his hand around her heart.

Hyun-Sook presses a gentle kiss to his forehead— the softest, most gentlest movement Hyun-Sook has ever made in her life, and murmurs against his sensitive skin, "I love you."

He opens his eyes, looks at her, and smiles.

 

***

 

She remembers the feeling of  _something_  in the room that day— the day she had given birth to Lee Seunghyun. Like some _one_ had been watching her from above. It is something Hyun-Sook doubts she'll ever forget that feeling. 

 

***

 

Hyun-Sook has always been a believer of Hananim; the god of the sky who moves the stars, the one who punishes evil and rewards good. Perhaps it was a lingering influence of her parents who told stories, warnings that came with living during a time where you held your breath and prayed to the heavens above that you would survive another day even as the news came of yet another city being bombed.  

Hyun-Sook and so many others of her generation grew up hearing stories like that; the fear of waking up one morning and hearing news of yet another war. She wakes up in the mornings and sometimes the only strength that keeps her up are Yeon-Jin's arms around her as the man on the radio says in a dull voice, "Yet another development about the investigation of new nuclear weapons in China.."

Yet another, yet another, it catches on her breath like red thunder and blue lightning. 

It's laughable at times, to realize that she's stuck in time, frozen in terror under this age-old fear. Hyun-Sook has participated in countless of marches, countless of parades and movements, exercising her ability to speak out both big and small but this one thing will always take her voice. 

Hyun-Sook asks her mom, "How did you move forward?"

"I never did," she replies, her eyes are blurry with old-age and she never quite meets anyone's eyes anymore, not even her daughter's. "Don't be like me, Hyun-Sook. Never be like me."

 

***

 

Hyun-Sook has lived her entire life, fearing things that might-not, will-not, could-not happen. 

She wakes up in the morning and remembers to tell her husband she loves him and says it again before they fall asleep. She tries to live each moment like its her last, smiles everyday because life is too short to for her to entertain being anything else, and when people ask her how she does it, she doesn't say it's tiring.

Even though it is. It's so, so tiring. 

Because Hyun-Sook she can't remember how to stop, she can't remember how to say no or how to speak when she truly needs to. 

 

***

 

Hyun-Sook asks her dad, "How do you stop being afraid?"

"You can't." He says to her and cover her hands with his own, he is warm and solid and trembling. He looks at her with wise, oldened eyes and Hyun-Sook wonders if he's seeing her and not his sister for once. "Sook-ah, you must learn to move forward and hope it's enough."

 

***

 

"How do you feel," Yeon-Jin starts to say before his voice dies in his throat and he looks away, almost bashfully. "Hm." 

"Hm?" Hyun-Sook repeats with a laugh. She curls her body towards him and reaches over to hold his hand, "What does that mean?" 

"Hmm," Yeon-Jin nods his head, he doesn't meet her gaze, greatly resembling a child who's been caught stealing a cookie out of a jar. Hyun-Sook covers her mouth to hide a smile.

She's so absurdly fond of him, he makes her happier than she's ever been in her life. Hyun-Sook doesn't know what she would've done if she hadn't married him. "Just tell me, you've been dancing around this subject for weeks."

Yeon-Ji's ears flush a lovely shade of red and it spreads across his face and Hyun-Sook leans in to kiss him. He rubs the back of his neck in that wholesome brutish-but-sincere way that had caught her attention the first time they had met. "I just— I know how tough this subject is for you."

"Oh?" Hyun-Sook raises an eyebrow; curious.

Yeon-Jin looks down, with furrowed eyebrows as if trying to gather up his courage before he squeezes her hands. He looks up, "I... how do you feel about having a baby?"

 

***

 

Hyun-Sook decides one day that she's going to start praying.

It wasn't an out-of-the-blue decision, not really; Hyun-Sook has watched her parents pray enough times to become curious about it, and as she got older, that curiosity only got stronger. It's not that she hasn't ever tried before, she has. But each and every time she did, her parents would stop her.

She could whine and plead and beg all she wanted to but her parents would look at her with these sad, sad eyes and all her protests would dry up like a teardrop underneath the sun.

It's not as if she  _wants_ to make her parents sad, it's just that Hyun-Sook wants to know why. What was so special about praying to this person who would never answer them back. Hyun-Sook wants to know what He did for them to warrant such reverence, to make them willingly kneel in front of a frozen statue for two hours everyday. 

She wants to know what's so special about Hananim that her parents can't even spare the time to talk to her.

"Mother," Hyun-Sook says, with daring eyes and daring hands and a rebellious curve to her mouth that makes her feel more mature than the time she wore lipstick to school for the first time. "Mother, why do you pray? What do you pray for?"

But for all her daring, Hyun-Sook didn't truly think she would answer. Her mother has always been tight-lipped about her beliefs and her father has never been the type to speak his thoughts. And maybe that's why her mother answers her, because she loves to be contrary to all of Hyun-Sook's expectations. 

"I pray that you will never have a reason to pray like me," she replies, and she wraps her hand around a silver necklace made with tiny little crosses that dig into her skin. "And I pray that you will never ask me that again." And maybe that's part of the reason why Hyun-Sook wants to pray so much.

She was always willing to do anything to be closer to her parents. 

Hyun-Sook buys a simple silver, chain necklace, with a large cross hanging down from it. The metal is cold against her skin and the delicate carvings on the cross bites and scratches her neck, but she likes it. 

She likes the look in her parents' eyes when they see her wear it.

 

***

 

 _I'm terrified,_ Hyun-Sook says to the night air as she sits on the couch, holding a warm mug of honey tea in her hand. It's quiet here, later she will climb back into bed, where Yeon-Jin will welcome her back with warm arms and soft sheets but for now, Hyun-Sook settles for the cold leather of their couch and the bite of her necklace against her skin.

She cradles her arm around her protruding stomach where their unborn baby was and whispers secrets to it; her books had said that speaking to your unborn child would help with the baby's development and Hyun-Sook isn't sure  _how,_  exactly, that's supposed to work but she tries it anyway. On the on-off chance that it does help.  _I'm terrified because I don't want to be a bad mother to you. I don't want to teach you how to be afraid like I am._

She presses a thumb around her necklace, the corners of the cross biting into the skin of her thumb like a reminder. 

Hyun-Sook has never learned to live without being scared of something.

"Hananim," she murmurs, a half-formed prayer on her tongue as she asks for something that has always been at her fingertips but never had the bravery to reach for.  _Give me the courage to move forward._

Hyun-Sook has never learned to live without being scared of something.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_She won't let that happen to her child._

 

***

 

She has been described many things throughout her life: polite, gentle, understanding, quiet. 

She has signed every petition, walked in every protest and marches that she could. She has called every representative, written, boycotted and volunteered every moment of her time she could spare. Because they're still out there, you know. The people who lost their homes and their lives and their happiness, they're still out there.

Hyun-Sook has spent her entire life with her head bent down in a prayer and swallowing the words she wanted to scream behind her teeth. She has spent far too long hoping and wishing and praying and  _waiting_ but she's all out of patience for that. 

She has no time for that anymore. (She has a baby to look forward to— a child to be responsible for.)

She is done with polite, she is done with waiting for something that will never happen just because she didn't have the nerve to change. 

 

***

 

 _"I'm so scared Jin-ah," she sobs helplessly because that's the truth of it. She's always been so scared of change. It took her so long to accept his affections; it takes her so long to accept anything that was out of her control. "I don't_ — _I can't_ — _"_

_Yeon-Jin catches her arms and pulls her into a tight hug, he murmurs soft nothings into her hair, promises her everything from the moon and back. "It's alright, it's alright; we don't have to if you don't want to have a baby. It's fine, you'll be okay I promise. Sook-ah, listen to me, you'll be fine. I'll be fine, neh?"_

_He rubs a thumb underneath her eyes, wiping away her tears roughly in the way her father had always done for her. He would be a good father, she thinks and it makes her feel sick because she's so selfish. She can't take this away from him._

_"You won't," she whispers, and swallows wetly. "You won't be fine."_

_"I won't," he says, because he knows she hates lies. "But I will be. I just want you to be happy Sook-ah."_

_She doesn't like how sincere he sounds, if only because it makes her want to cry even more._

_(She doesn't want to live her whole life being afraid.)_

_"Do you think I'll be a good mother?" she asks quietly, she traces the line of her cross, its sharp edges and crisp carvings._

_"Yes," he replies without hesitation. He has always believed in her, more than anyone else._

_She licks her lips, her voice cracks but she takes a deep breath and tries again. "Alright then."_

 

***

 

On the day before Lee Seunghyun's birth, Hyun-Sook had two visions.

One was a vision of a baby —  _her baby_  —giggling to himself; it was a cheerful, twinkling sound that could cause anyone to smile, echoing through an empty room. She saw herself go into his room and pick him up, arms full of squirming legs and a tiny face scrunching up in joy as happy squeals split from his lips. 

"Seunghyun-ah," she would coo, and she had marveled over how her eyes looked so warm and happy. "My little Hyunnie-ah, what are you laughing at?"

And he would look at her, eyes wide, searching deep inside her soul, at the person standing behind the vision, and she had held her breath, feeling as if the air had been sucked out of her; like she was floating on air and nothing could ever touch her again before he would giggle— that happy giggle that would never fail to make her smile.

And she woke up, breathless and smitten.

 

***

 

Hyun-Sook takes off her necklace for the first time in fifteen years. 

She seals it in a locked box and sends it and the key to her parents, and when she leaves the post office, she feels light.

 

***

 

Hyun-Sook records Seunghyun's little achievements with a steadfast diligence.

  

> _At 14 months and 18 days old, Lee Seunghyun tries to walk._

 

It was adorable, moreso with him holding onto whatever was near him, which usually constituted to the wall, his teddy bear, Yeon-Jin or herself; sometimes all four at once. With shaky feet, Seunghyun carefully stands and, observed by anxious eyes and bated breaths, steps forward and promptly slips and falls down.  

Each time Seunghyun fell, he would laugh; as if overjoyed by the sensation. He would lie on the ground for a second or two, enough to seem as if he had fallen asleep— and sometimes he did —before getting up and trying again with determination carved on his brow and fire burning in his eyes.

"He gets it from you." Yeon-Jin says to her, laughing. "With that kind of determination, he could take over the world."

Over and over and over again, he would get up and try to walk and he does.

 

> _At 14 months and 32 days old, Lee Seunghyun learns how to walk._

 

***

 

The other vision:  

  

> "In the past two weeks, I've seen change in you," a man with an expressive mouth says; his voice echoes in the room, buzzes through the walls and into the mirrors. He's dressed in all black with a cap that's pulled low over his eyes. "If I give you two years, you'll change even more right? You're confident in that?"
> 
> And little Seunghyun, her little baby that she would recognize anywhere, chokes down his tears and visibly tries his best to keep smiling— even as unforgiving stares bore into him. "Yes sir." he says; his voice is a soft thing, but she's proud to note that it doesn't crack.
> 
> The man looks at him and blinks twice, his face softens slightly at the sight her baby made, and he seems to see something he likes, before saying: "Good."
> 
> And that's it; 

 

she wakes up. 

***

 

Seunghyun is a cheerful child who smiled and laughed too much. He charms his way into everyone's hearts easily and always has his heart on his sleeve. He gives his heart away almost eagerly, too easily fooled by others, too easily taken by his desire to to please the people around him.

In a way, he reminded Hyun-Sook of herself.

"Well, I haven't heard anyone knocking on our doors yet," Yeon-Jin grins at her. "Do you think it'll be an uneventful day for once?"

"I doubt it," Hyun-Sook says, she can see her little boy running to the door from across the street, dragging along someone she's certain they've never met before and it's so typical of him that Hyun-Sook smirks. "Put your game-face on papa because our little panda's brought home another stranger."

"Oh no," Yeon-Jin says. "Not  _another_  one. Isn't Yunho enough for him?"

"Don't say that in front of them," Hyun-Sook giggles, already walking towards the door to welcome her baby home, her eyes linger on the way the new boy's hand gripped onto her baby's. She looks over her shoulder, and whispers teasingly, "Something tells me that this one's going to be awfully possessive."

Yeon-Jin groans and Hyun-Sook laughs.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mama lee is that a prophecy? lol who knew having a magical baby inside you for nine months would cause some slight side-effects? not me *whistles innocently*


	3. this is how he starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jiyong is eight and realizes that life is pretty hard.

 

**chapter three**

 

When Kwon Jiyong turned six years old, he had his whole life sorted out. 

It hadn't been anything truly solid, nothing but a childish plan made thought up in the span of an hour during class written in mismatched crayons and careful lettering, as careful as a toddler's handwriting could get, but for little Jiyong, who had nothing to boast of but a long existence of six years— it was enough. 

 

***

 

He writes with a careful precision:

 

_Name: Kwon Jiyong_

_Grade: First Grade_

_Class: 1-C_

_My Future Dream_

 

_I like dancing and singing and rapping and music._

_I like being in the center of attention, I like dressing up in pretty clothes and prettier hats._

_I like being in Little Roora. I like everything about it._

_When I grow up, I want to do this forever and ever._  

 

And smiles real wide, irrationally happy at the solid proof of his dream in his hands; Jiyong smiles even wider when his teacher hangs it up against the wall, displayed where everyone could see it, even the bigger kids.

It's one of many, a single dream among hundreds, each more outlandish than the last, but Jiyong knows his is different, that there's one thing that makes his paper stand out.

 _His_  dream is going to come true. 

Kwon Jiyong, at the age of six, knows he's talented and special and cute and all the other things thatpeople like to tell him. His teacher says she'll keep them up there for as long as they want and as his classmates pipe up with 'three weeks' or '4 weeks' or '5 days,' Jiyong thinks he might want to keep his paper up there forever. 

"Oh? But Jiyong, don't you want to take it home for your parents to see?" she asks him. 

Jiyong shakes his head. "Nuh-uh, I want everyone to see it forever and ever."

"Okay then," she smiles. "I'll keep it up there for as long as I can."

"As long as when I'm in Little Roora?" he asks because Kwon Jiyong, at the age of six, believed that he would be in Little Roora forever.

"Of course," she agrees and links her pinky with his and seals it. 

But months pass by and his teacher takes down the papers when the leaves falls down. She hands them back, tells them to hang them up at home and Jiyong doesn't say anything about her promise because by then, Little Roora has already disbanded and everything had already fallen apart so quickly that Jiyong  _still_  can’t understand what happened. 

 

***

 

Jiyong remembers the look on his mom's face when she got that phone call, the one that took everything away from him. He remembers tracing the lines of disappointment on her face, the ones that dipped down between her nose and the corners of her mouth and the quick glance of her eyes towards him like seemed to cut like a silver knife. 

Jiyong remembers the curve of her smile afterwards, the soft  _click_ of the phone as it was placed back on the handle and the solemn air in the room. "What’s wrong mom?” he had asked, because she had looked so sad. His mom's smile wobbled in his memory and if he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the way her hands had he had smoothed his hair along with the words that Jiyong still repeats at night:

"I'm sorry my little dragon," She says to him. "Little Roora is disbanding. The company doesn't want to fund it anymore."

"Oh honey," She cries softly. "It'll be okay, you'll be okay."

Jiyong repeats these words at night each and every day, at night, underneath his covers where no one can hear him and he can admit to himself that he doesn't understand. He doesn't think he'll ever understand.

 

***

 

Jiyong feels a nauseous twist in his stomach whenever he sees his mom’s red-rimmed eyes and pressed smile; her back looks so small in his dad's arms. She looks like she'll break.

Jiyong doesn't want her to break. 

He tells his mom the following morning, on his birthday, that he wouldn't ever sing or dance again. He rips open his heart and locks it in a chest and pretends it's okay, promises he'll be okay if only to get that look off her face.

He promises to her, "I'mma be fine, I don't need Little Roora; so please don’t cry anymore mom.”

It's the first time Jiyong has ever lied to her. He wonders, later, if it's supposed to be this easy.

 

***

 

His parents take him and his sister to someplace far away from Seoul. His sister complains during the entire trip, sobbing angrily at them as she clenches her dolls tight. She has dreams of becoming a fashion designer, Jiyong remembers.

He thinks of all those afternoons he spent with her, being pulled around the city as their parents followed behind them leisurely, just gawking through windows and staring at bright, big clothing and overblown lace.

"I'll be a fashion designer one day," his sister said to him one day, when they're sitting side by side in front of their TV, watching Lie Sang-Bong showcase his first collection: The Reincarnation on Seoul Fashion Week. It was so pretty, Jiyong thought, and wished, half-heartedly, that he could wear them too. "And when I do, you have to promise that you'll wear them; when you're all famous." 

"Okay then," Jiyong agreed and then grinned because he's cocky and has never learned the meaning of failure, has never entertained the thought of it before. "I'll be so famous, it won't even matter if they're not pretty because it's me."

His sister had shoved him for that and he had laughed. 

Jiyong had never learned what it felt like to lose before. 

Now though, now Jiyong's smarter, if only just a little bit. 

So he spends most of the trip looking through the back car window and avoids his sister's searching glances; feels them burn in his chest as he watches the city he's grown up with all his life grow smaller and smaller the further they drive.

 

*** 

 

> _Sometimes, words can be a lifeline to the drowning; and maybe that's what I want to be. I want to be your lifeline, the one who drags you back to shore, whether you want to stay afloat or not_ , Jiyong writes. 

 

***

 

The sound of static crackling through the old speakers of a machine that's too old and not old enough, and he is nothing but a radio wavelength child seated before a television to watch the footage of disaster on repeat.

_Over and over and over and over again._

Jiyong watches with his mouth wide open, gaping and catching air like an open net and around him are the adults, swimming, or maybe running, like too many fishes beating up a single stream; their clatter is too loud and too soft and so so so lost. 

At one point, Jiyong becomes aware that he is too young to see this but he continues to watch anyway, because something about watching the final moments of the man, on that giant metal bird, and knowing he's dead but seeing them bring him back again— sliding back the pieces and gluing his bones and skin and blood back together —looks like magic.

Jiyong thinks he likes it, the way the man was put back together and taken apart just as easily and sitting on that couch with everyone around him, Jiyong realizes for the first time, just how different he was compared to everyone else.

 

***

 

Jiyong doesn't know how he feels about Gwangju, it's a small city compared to Seoul. The streets are less crowded and the buildings are shorter, Jiyong could look outside the window in his room and see the entire city if he wanted to. It's a huge difference from the previous view of his ex-neighbor's trash bins he had gotten used to before.

Jiyong isn't sure he likes it.

His sister got over her misgivings quickly though and easily makes new friends who follow her around with wide mouths as she tells about her experiences of living in a big city for everyone to hear.  More often than not, she's outside with the neighborhood kids while Jiyong stays inside his room. 

His mom wants him to  _socialize_ more though, and talk to other kids instead of just his parents or his sister because 'it was getting  _unhealthy_ Jiyong' and since Gwangju's streets were known to be much safer than Seoul, Jiyong is pushed outside with a backpack (inside is a lunch bag with sandwiches and apple slices plus a small water bottle in his secret pouch) and a walkie-talkie, before he's left to find his way to the park on his own.  

It's fine though, Jiyong huffs. He's seven now, he doesn't need help going to the park, nevermind the fact that he's at an entirely new environment with no friends or map.

He presses his lips together. 

He'll be fine. 

 

*** 

 

> _I'll teach you how to be dragon, spitting fire and baring teeth in the faces of those who try to crush you beneath their heel_ , Jiyong writes.  _I'll teach you how to be much more than the person they think you are; I'll teach you what it means to be strong._

  
***

 

"Hello. My name is Kwon Jiyong and I'm seven-years-old." Jiyong recites, he holds his hands behind his back and doesn't meet anyone's gaze, prefering to stare at the clock on the front wall. It has bunny ears drawn on it and Jiyong wonders how tall you had to be to reach that high up. "I moved here from Seoul and I think I like the color red; and my hobby—" he stops, he looks down and tries not to think. "I don't have any hobbies." 

There's a quiet silence in the room, or maybe it's just in his head, but when Jiyong looks up again, his teacher smiles at him encouragingly. Jiyong wants to melt into the floor. 

"Thank you Jiyong, you may sit down." his new teacher says. "Next up is Chan-Hee?"

Jiyong sits down right as the girl to the left of him stands up. She's somewhat pretty, Jiyong notes, if in a plain way with her pigtails and dark brown eyes. Jiyong thinks she sort of looks like his sister, in a way.

The girl glances at him and blushes in that weird way girls usually do, but Jiyong can also see the edge of her eyes, as sharp as a ruler and loses interest quickly; he's had more than enough experience with those type of girls before. They usually tried to get Jiyong to follow them during recess, with their silly dresses and sharp-soft-pretty smiles and teary eyes. 

Jiyong knows enough about girls, about people to know now that attention isn't always a good thing. 

"Neh, neh, oppa!" Chan-Hee says later, fidgeting in her pink dress with her perfectly painted pink nails. She leans over and asks, "Is it true that you're from Seoul?"

"Yes." Jiyong answers. "I just moved here."

The kids around them gasps and as if her question had had broken open a dam, they surrounded him, questions spilling out like a waterfall. 

"What's it like?"

"Is it true Seoul has a lot of bad people?"

"Do famous people walk everywhere?"

"Did you see any gangsters?"

"Were you a TV star?" 

Jiyong's chest hurts.

"Why do you ask that?" he asks and folds his hands in his lap, he looks up at the boy leaning over his desk.

"Everyone says that once you're in Seoul, you'll be on TV at least once!"

He has dirt smeared across his cheek and his voice is a little nasally, but his eyes; they're clear behind his glasses, perceptive. He reminds Jiyong of someone else, but thinking about that person reminds him of Little Roora and Jiyong doesn't want to think about Little Roora. 

"No, I wasn't on TV before."

Jiyong thinks he might catch on fire one day, with all these lies. 

 

***

 

Chan-Hee reminds Jiyong of Chae-Woo. He had thought at first, she resembled his sister who thrived from being the most important person in the room; perfect, with her precise curls and carefully calculated and coordinated clothing.

Jiyong can see parts of Dami in Chan-Hee, in her pink bows and pink nails and pink smiles; the way she agrees with everyone's opinions but never states her own unless necessary, and even then, Jiyong knows that she always makes sure to leave room to breath.

Chan-Hee is indecisive, Jiyong decides, she plays to every game and sticks her finger in every pie.

Chan-Hee wants to be the smartest person in the room and Jiyong can tell that she's willing to do almost anything, say almost anything, to get what she wants.

Jiyong hasn't heard a single truth come from her mouth since the first time he met her. And in a room filled with country kids with their soft eyes and foolish smiles, Chan-Hee and her pink smiles and sharp teeth is a cat amongst mice.

Jiyong thinks Chan-Hee would fit right in if she ever moved to Seoul. 

So yes, Chan-Hee reminds him of his sister, just a little, but at the same time she's also very much like Chae-Woo. Chae-Woo who is one year younger than him but isn't anything like how a dongsaeng should be: sweet, deferential, or innocent.

Oh Chae-Woo was sweet when she needed to be, she could put on a cute smile and grin at cameras bright enough to make adults coo and fawn over her; and  _oh_ , she could play the innocent look so well whenever she ever needed to, it wasn't hard either, especially with her charming dimples and the way she seemed to light up every time she smiled, but Jiyong also knows that most of their fanbase considered her to be the wild one of the group.

Chae-Woo tried so hard to be larger than life and with it, and left her with a jarring, almost rabid look; her eyes were always filled with  _want,_  for something more, for something better— and this is why Jiyong will never consider her to be deferential: Chae-Woo never knew when to give up. 

Jiyong remembers the last time he saw her: on stage, with everyone else, for the last time. 

Her hair had been threaded with confetti, bright pink clothing and bandana, and nails that had been painted neon yellow;  _a sunshine image_  the make-up noonas had said,  _to lighten things up_ , but Jiyong had thought it just made it hurt to look at her directly. 

"Oppa, I'm not going to give up," she had said to him under her breath; they were both looking out at older Roora out on stage, waving their hands towards the screaming crowd while Little Roora waited in the shadows. "I'm going to join another group as soon as I can. What about you?"

Chae-Woo had always considered Jiyong her rival for leadership in the group, and he had welcomed it before, thought it was funny before, but right now all Jiyong can feel is cold. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, as if expecting something, but he doesn't reply. 

The look on her face, he remembers then, was full of disappointment. 

"Jiyong-oppa, how was your day?" Chan-Hee asks as they walk towards the shoe racks, her voice is as pleasant as ever, as if he hadn't seen her comforting the boy who had been picked on earlier for not liking an idol like everyone else. As if he hadn't heard her laughing at that boy earlier during lunch. 

Chan-Hee looks at him with challenging eyes like she thinks he'll stop her, and he thinks if he were younger, Jiyong might've taken her up on it but if he's honest with himself now...

"Fine," He just doesn't care.

 

***

 

A year passes by and Jiyong celebrates his eighth birthday with his family. Jiyong doesn't have anyone he particularly wants to invite over for his party so it's a small event consisting of only him and his parents; his sister was out again with her friends and had promised to give him a present once she came back. 

Jiyong doesn't mind. He's not that excited about his birthday anymore.

Jiyong ignores the sad look his mom sends him when she thinks he isn't looking. 

He doesn't think he's been excited for anything for a long while now.

 

***  

 

> _I'll teach you how to be soft and sharp at the same time,_ Jiyong writes.  _And if you tell me you're already broken, I'll be broken with you._

 

***

 

"What do we do Young-Hwan?" Jiyong hears his mom say, later that night. He had gotten thirsty and his water bottle that he usually kept beside his bed was empty. He crouches behind the stairwell and breathes in shallowly. It's strange how the moment you start to think about it, the harder it gets to breathe.  

"Gi-Ran.." his dad says softly. Jiyong can almost picture him reaching out to mom.  

"No!" his mom interjects sharply, there's a sound of something brushing against the couch before she stalks into Jiyong's viewpoint and Jiyong holds still.

She doesn't see him.

"We tried giving him space and it's  _not working._ He's getting worse Young-Hwan," she turns her head away and wraps her arms around her body. "You can't tell me this is because he's sad about the move. Dami isn't having nearly as hard of a problem integrating with the people here and you  _know_ how much she hated the idea of moving." 

She runs a ragged hand through her hair, messing it up from the usual perfect curls it was in, she sets the pins down on the table and covers her face. Her voice is weak, "Have you ever seen him talk to anyone other than us or Dami? It's been a year Young-Hwan.. it's not healthy."  

His dad doesn't say anything and the silence is telling. 

Jiyong has never seen his parents like this before, he licks his lips and presses them together. 

"Do you think we made a mistake?" he asks finally and walks towards his mom, slowly, as if he was wary of scaring her. Jiyong thinks he saw something similar to the way his dad approached his mom before, on a nature democracy.  _The lion cannot show weakness because if his pride caught sight of any sign of falter or sickness, it could mean the lion's last._  "We could move back." 

His mom had always been so strong in his eyes.

She shakes her head and moves to a spot that he can't follow from behind the stairwell. "No, Seoul was bad for Jiyong. He was constantly reminded of Little Roora there." She sighs and the furrow between her eyebrows dip deeper, there's a crinkle on her forehead and Jiyong wants to smooth it out. "I don't know what we should do."

Jiyong doesn't know to do either. His face feels hot and his throat is dry, he thinks he's coming down with a fever. 

Jiyong used to know everything about himself but now  _now_ he can't even figure out what's  _wrong_  with him.

The only thing that he knows for sure, is that he doesn't like his parents worrying over him and that he doesn't like thinking about Little Roora or moving back to Seoul — in fact, he doesn't like to think about anything at all.

Jiyong climbs back up stairs, water bottle forgotten, and goes back into his room, closing the door shut and tries to forget the way his breath caught in his throat at the name of Little Roora being said.

 

***

 

"Dami, what do I do?" Jiyong asks, and picks at a stray piece of string from his sweater. It was an old sweater, one of his favorites, with its soft red color and bright orange patterns, tiny little suns that lit up at night whenever Jiyong felt alone. The patterns were fading away now.

"What do you mean?" his sister asks, and Jiyong looks up at her, eyes sad and lost as he tries to pick out words to convey his problem to her. Jiyong thinks it should be easier than this, he's never had trouble saying what he wanted before.

"With mom.. and dad.. and," Jiyong stumbles over his words lamely, which is a good word to describe himself as; he's felt pretty lame lately. His sister stops sketching and Jiyong can catch a glimpse of an arm, maybe a sleeve if he squints, before she closes the notebook shut. 

"So you finally noticed?" she asks rhetorically but not unkindly, and Jiyong pouts at her. "You've been pretty sad lately, little brother."

"Only a little," Jiyong says and she laughs at him.

"If that's what you call little, then sure," she replies. "But don't you think that maybe it's time you got over it?"

"But I don't even know what I'm trying to forget."  _I don't even know if I can._

"I never said forget," she states matter-of-factly and Jiyong blinks. "I said 'get over it.' Try something new, do something fun; learn and live little brother. Learn and move forward." She points her pen at him menacingly. "And don't think I forgot our promise, you said you'd wear my clothes once you become famous right? So what are you doing here? Get going."

His sister has always done things at her own pace, never waiting for anyone to follow after her; Jiyong used to be like that, once. 

She waits for an answer so Jiyong just nods and she smiles, satisfaction clear on her face and gets up from her desk. She waves a hand at him with a nonchalant air as she walks out.

"Anyways, just get outside more. That'll probably make mom and dad happy." 

 

***

 

> _I'll teach you the stumbling way out of the dark, grab hold of my hand and I promise I'll catch you if you fall,_  Jiyong writes.  _Close your eyes if you're scared; I'll still be here._

 

***

 

Jiyong tries not to be at home. He follows his sister's advice and spends most of his time outside and it seems to work. His mom looks happier and his dad is always overwhelmingly relieved whenever he asks for money to buy snacks and Jiyong is... 

He's feeling better.

He's getting out more, finally giving into his urge to explore the neighborhood and making up for the entire year he spent staying inside. It's almost embarrassing to know how much he's missed the last time he went out. 

And it's nice. Jiyong finds that he likes the way the wind feels in his hair in the afternoons. He finds that he doesn't mind hearing all the animals wake up at night as he used to, finds that he might even consider them comforting, in a way. He likes the way the trees rustle in the streets, leaving a quiet hush to befall on anyone who walked by.

He likes the way everyone knew each other, that he could turn into a random corner and be welcomed by a friendly grandma or familiar classmate. Seoul was always too big and too busy to ever be as close knitted as Gwangju. 

"Here you go deary," the owner of the snack shop around the corner had said to him, she shoved a bag of sweets at him, insisted that he needed to eat more, and completely railroads over his attempts to pay her back. "You need it, you look like you need a little sugar in your life."

Jiyong clenched his palms around the soft fabric of the bag and under her kind eyes, bites down on the still warm cookie. She's right, it is sweet. 

Jiyong finds that he could come to like Gwangju; maybe. 

 

***

  

> _The fire they tried to suffocate you with, the ashes you taste on your tongue,_  Jiyong writes.  _I'll teach you the beauty of the sun and how good it feels to burn._

  

***

 

"So.. Jiyong." The boy drawls easily, as if he had gotten permission to call Jiyong by his name so casually, as if he knew Jiyong well enough to do so. "We're in the same class again." 

 _What a coincidence_ , Jiyong thinks sarcastically. He learnt that word from his sister, when she had been angry at some boy or another but didn't want to make a scene. Jiyong had watched her tear him down to the brink of tears with nothing more than a few well placed questions and thin smiles. 

Jiyong likes the idea of being able to cause that much harm without hurting himself. 

He squints at the boy from beneath his beanie and tries to place the face to a name. No good. 

Jiyong isn't quite as grumpy as he had been when he first moved to Gwangju, so he's more than self-aware of himself now and realizes how complete antisocial he had been in 2nd grade. Jiyong doesn't remember much during that year either, the names and faces of his classmates all blurred into a blob of faceless people.

Jiyong doesn't even remember  _talking to_ the people in his class, not of his own obligation at least. 

For some reason though, that hadn't stopped him from becoming one of the more popular kids, citing that he was cool and chic for being so quiet. 

"I guess we are," Jiyong says, and the boy grins at him, a surprised giddiness spreading across his face and behind his glasses. Jiyong can tell that the boy was shocked that he answered, Jiyong remembers ignoring this boy numerous time throughout 2nd grade but for some reason, he kept coming back.

Jiyong will never understand people, or why they think what they think of him, but he's learnt to take advantage of it. 

"What was your name again?" ..That doesn't mean he's getting any better at socializing though.

 

***

 

Jiyong makes friends and gets pulled into annoying obligations and expectations but they rankle at him enough that Jiyong tries to meet them anyway.

It reminds him of Seoul, almost, and it makes Jiyong a little sick inside because he doesn't mind it nearly as much as he thought he would. It feels like slipping on a jacket that he used to wear everyday and had lost one night, the edges are frayed and fabric worn down, but it's comfortable; it's familiar. 

Their teacher announces that they'll have a new music room next week and requests that they all choose an instrument to play or join the school choir; Jiyong finds out that he's not quite over Little Roora as he makes himself to be, and it makes him desperate enough for him to say yes whenever someone asks him to ditch with them. 

Jiyong doesn't like make his parents sad but when it comes to some things, like music class, Jiyong is willing to make sacrifices.

 

*** 

 

> _I hope I'm shining, I hope I'm giving you light_ _,_ Jiyong writes.  _I want to show you, one day, how you're made of ichor, how you've survived the pain and that when the sun shines on you, you can see how far you've come._

 

*** 

 

Jiyong smiles, smiles, smiles.

He learns to be better at pretending and he guesses it works because everyone's happier these days. 

"My sweet little dragon," his mom says to him, when he comes home from school late. He lies that he had been at a friend's house and she looks so proud of him, so happy for him, that Jiyong feels like an imposter. "Next time just invite your friends over. I'll bake some snacks for them."

"You look happy," his father says, relief stark clear on his face. "That's good." 

"Good job little bro," Dami says, words muffled by the toothbrush in her mouth. "Keep it up."

Chan-Hee pays more attention to him, her pink smiles always in the edge of his vision, proud and calculating, as if she thinks he's finally learning to play the game. The boy with glasses (Soo-ho) never leaves him alone, always asking him for more and more and more and Jiyong gives it to him, too tired to do anything else.

Jiyong comes home and looks in the mirror and thinks his smile feels awfully fake.

 

***

 

"Boy, don't you know your face can get stuck like that?" the shopkeeper says. "If the wind ever blows across your face, it might stay forever you know."

Jiyong smiles because it's the only thing he knows how to do right.

"Boy," the shopkeeper says. "Don't you know how tiring it is to stay like that?" She shoves a new bag of sweets into his hands and ushers him out the door. And Jiyong tries not to read into why a stranger is able to see through his smile when his family and friends couldn't. His head aches; it pounds and pounds and oh, it hurts. 

Jiyong bites into the cookie and it tastes dry.

 

***

 

When Jiyong gets tired, too tired to humor his classmates or put-up a smile in front of his parents, he likes to walk to the park. It's strange how he gravitates to this one place, the same way he had when they had first moved to Gwangju. 

But there's something about it that makes him feel special and everytime he leaves, his chest feels lighter, emptier.  

Jiyong takes one look at the people at the park, spots some of grade-mates running around in the distance, and quickly walks the other way. It was pretty easy, all of them were too busy chasing each other or playing with their toys, screaming their tiny little hearts out to pay him any attention. 

He heads towards the forest of the park, pushes past low branches and rustling trees before finding himself in an open field of green. His smile drops and his cheeks ache.  

Jiyong picks up a nearby stick, twirls it in his hand absentmindedly. He feels mischievous today, devious like he's up to no good, and it's a feeling that Jiyong hasn't felt in a while. 

It's enough to bolster Jiyong's courage, so he throws the stick up, letting it spin in the air, and it lands on the ground after a few seconds. Jiyong follows the direction it points at and lets the undiscovered path of broken branches and unruly bushes bekon to him.

He's feeling lucky. 

A few minutes— or maybe hours, he's not sure —pass by and Jiyong's not ashamed to admit that he’s hopelessly lost. He has food inside his backpack, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and half-full water bottle though. It's enough to get him through lunch and maybe dinner if he rations it. 

And if he gathers some sticks and cotton he can make a fire if he needs to. Jiyong learned this on TV, from the survivor show that had been all the rage these days. Jiyong steadfastly ignores the voice inside his head saying 'where are you gonna find cotton at a park?' He'll figure it out. 

"I’m completely A-OK," Jiyong mutters and squints at the trees around him, trying to figure out the way back; they all looked the same to him. "..Probably," he amends. 

He wonders if he should scream. His parents had always told his sister and him to scream if anything happened to them, but Jiyong thinks it probably doesn't apply here. Not when there wasn't anyone to hear him for miles; it wouldn't hurt to try though. 

"Help!" Jiyong yells. "Anyone out there?" He hears a branch snap and flinches.

The only thing that answers him are eerie cawing noises that echo around forest trees, a flash of black and white from the corner of his eye has him jumping, jerking and twisting around with his heart racing in his chest. He feels like he's just lost five years of his life.

The black and white blurs and darts into a particularly dense stand of trees to his left. Jiyong takes a step back just as it slows down and lands on one of the branches. 

" _Yah_!" Jiyong yells warningly and points his stick at the bird. "Stop being so scary!" 

(Not his best comeback, but it was the best he could think of at the moment.) 

The bird cocks its head at Jiyong, its beady eyes bright and shining with an unnerving amount of intelligence. It hops along the branch and tilts its head back, letting out a loud warbling cry in response; as if amused.

Jiyong shoots it a dirty look, clenches his stick tighter, but he doesn’t have the nerve to chase it off. He knows better than to pick fights with suspicious birds.

He follows a trail in the opposite direction —  _away from bird_ —where the branches above his head looked less thick. He thinks he can vaguely see sunlight up ahead and he walks faster, eager to leave behind the quiet forest and scary bird.

_"Ooh?"_

Jiyong gasps, heart suddenly in his mouth and his blood is pounding in his eyes. Oh boy, Jiyong thinks. He's going to lose half his life-span at the rate he's going.

Jiyong turns. There’s a boy standing behind the trunk of a tree, his head haloed by the setting sunlight pouring through the leaves. His hair shines a vibrant gold from where Jiyong's standing and it frames his chubby-cheeked face nicely. 

The blackbird from before swoops down and perches on the branch of the tree and flutters its wings proudly, like it was trying to show off and as Jiyong scowls.

The boy laughs.

 

> _Him; something beats in Jiyong’s chest, like a drum or a heartbeat that doesn't belong to him but feels like it should. It pumps to the (un)familiar beat of he’s here, he’s here, he’s **alive** , he's_—

 

Jiyong blinks, disoriented, and stumbles forward; he falls.  

 _"Woah!"_  the boy yelps and suddenly, he's in front of Jiyong, holding him up with small hands. 

Now, normally Jiyong would take a step back, because despite how much more social he's becoming as of late, Jiyong's still a bit wary around others. But right now his usual cool is buried under a mountain of relief and loneliness because while Jiyong may have just turned eight— may become too old to cry anymore, he’s entirely too glad to find another person just as lost as he is. 

(And maybe there's something about the way the boy says: "Don't worry, I have you." that makes his heart shudder and shake, like he's still on the verge of falling and the boy was the only one holding him up.)

"Thanks," Jiyong says, and it's to his surprise that he actually means it. "I was tired."

The boy laughs again, it's just as bright as it had been the first time Jiyong heard it. "I could tell, hyung. You look like you've been running." 

Jiyong clicks his teeth. "I was not."  _He was._

"Sure, hyung." The boy's smile is mischievous and playful, entirely too cheeky for someone who was dressed in a panda hoodie, but oddly enough, Jiyong thinks it's cute.

"So are you lost hyung? I could show you the way back to the park." The boy says with a surprising amount of articulation than Jiyong would expect from someone as young as him; then again, Jiyong was like that too, when he was little. His mom liked to call him precocious, his sister: a brat. 

"I walked off the path and didn't realize how far I'd walked." Jiyong says, and doesn't mention that it was on purpose and entirely his own fault. 

The boy's eyes are alight with amusement, as if he knew what Jiyong wasn't saying and Jiyong's cheeks turn red. He scowls and the boy grins in a pacifying manner; it's irritatingly endearing.

Jiyong wants to pinch his cheeks and coo at him.

"Keep walking," Jiyong says. 

"'Kay, 'kay, hyung." the boy chirps happily, gives him a salute and walks a little in front of Jiyong, with his hands clasped behind his back. Jiyong thinks of it more fondly than he'd like to admit. 

 _"The fire they tried to suffocate you with, the ashes you taste on your tongue,"_  the boy hums. His eyes are soft and gentle, golden brown when the sun hits them just right; the look on his face is nostalgic, almost sad, and Jiyong thinks it doesn't fit him. 

The boy doesn't look right when he's sad.

( _I'll teach you the beauty of the sun and how good it feels to burn.)_

The words though. They sound familiar,  _feel_  familiar, the same way it feels when Jiyong's heart beats like it's in a race against time, stuttering and slipping over each other like dominos; they climb up his throat and stay there. 

 

***

 

The boy leads him up a hill, through a thicket bush, and into a tree. Jiyong's pretty sure they've past the same stream at least three times already — wow, Jiyong never realized how big this park was —and at one point, they stop in front of a large pond and almost get chased by a flock of geese. 

They manage to escape by the skin of their teeth and Jiyong is so supremely  _unimpressed_  that the boy bursts into giggles at the look on his face. Jiyong's pretty sure they're more lost than he had been at the beginning. 

They bicker throughout the entire journey and share chips and sandwiches and juice, and Jiyong finds himself bonding with this tiny little boy who he still doesn't the name. It's a strange, in way, because even though Jiyong doesn't know much about him, that doesn't mean he doesn't know anything either. 

Jiyong knows the boy loves pandas and strawberries and waffles but not pancakes because he  _swears_  they're different; he knows that the boy likes dance and sing, and that underneath his chubby-cheeks, long-eyelashes, and sweet smiles lied a troublemaker whose favorite pastime was dragging unsuspecting strangers in wild goose chases.

"Aw  _hyung_ ," the boy drags the honorific out like a whine, and pouts. It's criminally adorable. "I know what I'm doing, I promise!"

"You do  _not_ ," Jiyong deadpans, and he pouts too because two can play at that game and Jiyong has never lost that game before. Never. "This is the  _fifth_  time we've passed this tree."

"No it isn't!" The boy's eyes are alight with mischief and Jiyong is hard pressed to hide his rising grin.

"You're  _literally_  leading us in circles!" Jiyong insists and points at the bottle cap he had left inside the tree trunk earlier, as a marker.

The boy huffs at him and turns away to avoid Jiyong's eyes but Jiyong can see the smile edging on his lips. "Well you're the one following me hyung!"

"Because I'm lost!" 

The boy rolls his eyes like he'd been proven right. "And that makes sense  _how_?" 

And it's just so goddamn hilarious that Jiyong bursts out laughing before he knows it; tiny little snorts that bubble up his chest and spill from his lips in between desperate gasps of air. Jiyong's eyes squeeze shut and the last thing he sees is theboy grinning at him with satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

 

***

 

"So.. you're the dancer in Little Roora aren't you?" the boy says later, when Jiyong's caught his breath and they're walking side by side, soaking in the comfortable air around them. The boy's tone is warm and curious, eyes bright with sincerity, and that's probably the only reason why Jiyong tells the truth.

"I'm not in that group anymore," he says, there's a hot bubble of ugly feelings in him and Jiyong scratches his chest. "It's disbanded. We're not together anymore."

"Oh, I know," the boy says. He casts his eyes down, eyelashes fanning and drawing delicate shadows on his face as he toes the ground absentmindedly. He was a really pretty kid, Jiyong notes. "I was really sad. I really, really like your voice." 

Jiyong scrutinizes the boy carefully, he licks his lips. "Really?" He hates how weak his voice sounds.

The boy's lips curl at the corners, just ever so slightly, as smiles at him from the corner of his eyes. His cheeks puff out and he takes a deep breath before spreading his arms as wide as they could reach. "Yeah! I liked it  _thiiiiiis_  much!" 

" _My_  voice?” Jiyong asks in quiet bewilderment, even though Jiyong has always been confident of himself, in his dance skills and rapping skills but he also knows that he has flaws. Jiyong's voice was never the most popular in Little Roora, and he had always been delegated to take up Sangmin-hyung's role, despite people saying otherwise. Jiyong knows how he looks like to other people.

The boy nods. "I'm going to be a singer just like you, you know?" And he smiles and whispers, a secret curve on his lips, "I've been practicing. Do you wanna hear?" 

Jiyong nods because even though he skips music class all the time, Jiyong will never treat music with anything less than the seriousness it deserves, and the boy notices this and laughs; short and absolutely pleased. It makes Jiyong flush a little.

He reaches forward and tugged on his wrist with chubby fingers and a radiant twinkle in his eyes. "C'mon then hyung."

And Jiyong lets him.

The boy leads them through a maze of trees and bushes each just as indistinguishable as they had been earlier— but with focused steps; much smoother than before. Jiyong has a slinking suspicion that he had been played somehow, before the boy pulls them underneath a wisteria tree.

Jiyong closes his eyes to avoid the low branches just as bright orange light paints the back of his eyelids; filling his vision and blinding him.

 

***   

  

> _I am telling you that you deserve all the happiness that you want,_  Jiyong writes.  _I telling you that you've always been a dragon and nothing will ever change that._

 

***

 

Jiyong stands at the highest hill in the park and behind them stood the biggest tree Jiyong had ever seen. From there, they could see the entire park, and if Jiyong squints, he could almost make out the playground he had been at earlier.

The boy lets go of Jiyong's arm and sends him another grin, a devious little thing and says, "I told you I knew what I was doing."

Jiyong would scowl but he's also reluctantly impressed by how cunning it was, even if he doesn't understand the point of this all. Jiyong's knee still hurts though, and it throbs from bumping into a tree one too many times, so he doesn't say anything.

Jiyong hears him inhale sharply and closes his eyes. He's not going to admit that he's a little scared; he hasn't listened to any music directly for over a year.

One beat, two beats, three beats. Jiyong waits and a note fills the forest; it floats on the wind, as light as a feather but for some reason it hurts. Like a hand coming up to squeeze Jiyong's lungs, painfully tight, and Jiyong can't breathe.

It's a perfect note; clear and high and sweet. 

 _"_ _I'll teach you the stumbling way out of the dark, grab hold of my hand and I promise I'll catch you if you fall,_ _"_ the boy opens his eyes, looks at Jiyong with a quirk of his lips.  _"_ _Close your eyes if you're scared; I'll still be here."_

His voice was still childish, Jiyong thinks. It was at the stage where it was still sweet, like cotton candy and sugar and ice cream mixed together, the typical kind of quality children had— so it shouldn't have sounded so nice. But there was an emotion underlined in the boy's tone that made up for the overwhelming sweetness; a quiet desperation in it; an ache that Jiyong was more than familiar with these days, that made his voice gain a certain  _rawness_ in it.

Jiyong shivers, breathless.

The boy watches him with bright, brilliant eyes, eyes that seemed to ask 'sing with me;' a challenge and a request all at once, and yet, not.

Because he doesn't have a pink smile on his face; his hand his held out towards him, just close enough that Jiyong could reach out and take it or slap it away, there's no pressure, not demand, no obligation— just a simple promise.

"I haven't sang in over a year you know," Jiyong says.

The boy's voice sounds like music and Jiyong doesn't know what to do with his hands other than take the younger's, and the boy looks at him, face flushed and triumphant like he had won and achieved something much more important than whatever this was.

"I know." He looks so happy and Jiyong's heart skips a beat.

Jiyong licks his lips, and says, "Alright then." Because why not? — what did Jiyong really have to lose at this point? 

And the boy grins and pushes Jiyong down the hill and into another run, and the forest is alive with their voices.

 

*** 

  

> _I am telling you to take my hand and jump without looking,_  Jiyong writes.  _Listen to what your heart tells you for once and believe in me._

 

_***_

 

Jiyong sings, the first time he’s done so in a long, long time and the words and the melody fills up in his chest like warm honey and sweet syrup on this tongue.

They sing until sun goes and Jiyong feels like he's walking on air, lightheaded and out of breath to give. They sing until their knees are weak and there's nothing left stopping them from collapsing, on each other and onto the grass.  

The boy mumbles a question into his shirt and his words vibrate; "My name is Seungri, what's yours?" His body feels sweaty and Jiyong's is sticking to the back of his neck. It's disgusting but he's too tired to move.

"...Jiyong." His fingers shake like there's electricity running beneath his skin and his face feels hot. Jiyong frowns. 

"Jiyong." He repeats and something inside him urges him on, pushes for him to say something else and the truth— the ugly, desperate truth that he tried hiding solidifies itself into words and bursts open: "You better not forget it, 'cause  _one day,_  I'll be super famous! I'm going to be  _so great_  that they won't ever take me off the screen again —you'll see." 

"Ok," Seungri says, and Jiyong can’t help but feel his stomach flip with something—  _excitement, nervousness, relief_ —he doesn’t know. All he knows is that this is what he wants, and that nothing has ever been more clear to him than this.

Seungri smirks cheekily, "If I don't get there first you mean." And he's looking up at Jiyong with pretty eyes and a pretty smirk and a cheeky challenge and Jiyong — 

Jiyong laughs.

He laughs belly deep and it’s so stupid, but Jiyong feels a little like crying when Seungri tilts his head at him and the little panda ears of his hoodie flop over with the motion.

He laughs and his heart fills up until he sort of wants to explode; he laughs and laughs and laughs until—

_Oh._

_Oh. OH. OH._

A sob breaks from his throat, from his chest. It's like something's cracked open inside him and suddenly he's crying. He's so so tired, it hurts, everything hurts.

Jiyong curls his arms over his face, his shoulders heave with the force of his sobs, and tries to stop. But Seungri steps closer and pushes his arms away from his face, presses soft fingers against his tears and murmurs soft reassurances.

"It's okay if you wanna cry," he says and he pulls Jiyong close. Jiyong resists his hold for all of three seconds before his entire body slumps into Seungri's embrace. "I'm here. I'm here, I promise it'll be alright."

He cries even louder; he's loud and ugly and wailing but Seungri runs his warm hands over his back comfortingly. He smells like lavender and milk and safety and Jiyong thinks: he might be okay, here in Gwangju, after all.

 

***  

 

The truth is, Jiyong never truly got over Little Roora or the limitations that came along with not being in Little Roora anymore. The truth is, Jiyong loves music it so much that it’s unbearable, and he hadn't wanted to start again because he had known he wouldn't be able to stop if he did; wouldn't be able to stop himself from being consumed by it.

Jiyong tried living without music and, he finds that even though it hurts, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to let go of it again.

 

***

 

 

> _I am telling you that you are strong,_  Jiyong writes.  _And that you will survive this._

 

***

 

"Seungri?" Jiyong's voice croaks, and he sniffles a little, and feels more than embarrassed for breaking down.

"Yeah?" Seungri says, his eyes trace the clouds above, focused, and Jiyong envies them. Just a fraction.

"I like singing," he says quietly. It feels like a secret. 

"Ok," Seungri says. He smiles and Jiyong finds that he likes the curve of his mouth, the way it's so expressive and he could pick out everything Seungri was feeling from it alone. 

"I really really like singing you know," Jiyong repeats.

Seungri blinks; his voice is confused and he pouts, "I know hyung. You already told me."

And Jiyong smiles.

  

_***_

 

_"Mom, what's a dragon?" Jiyong asks, his question muffled by the sticky rice cake in his mouth and she leans forward to wipe the corner of his mouth._

_"Dragons are strong." Her fingers are gentle as they press against his face, her hair falls from her shoulder and it smells like mint and lavender fabric softener; Jiyong knows she'll cut it later, because he knows his mom hates it when her hair gets into her face. "Dragons are brave."_

_"Strong," Jiyong repeats, eyes wide and curious. "Am I strong?"_

_"You are," she says, her smile is proud and loving. "You're so strong that I know you'll be okay. No matter what happens."_

 

***


	4. this is who he knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seungri knows who that boy is. (how could he not?) and seungri doesn't want him. 
> 
> (he doesn't want those tears and ugly feelings.) 
> 
> he wants to be happy, but even in another life, among every life he's ever dreamed of, he has never wanted to see jiyong sad.

 

**chapter four**

 

Seungri is five years old and he is busy.

He is busy busy busy  _busy_  everyday - it's like the world spins underneath his feet, too fast for him to keep up, but Seungri has to keep up. He chases after life like he's running out of time and  _god_  it's exhausting, but it's a good-kinda-exhausting. 

The kind that leaves him curling into the corner of his mattress by the wall, tired but satisfied. Almost enough to forget the ever-present loneliness that comes with hiding underneath his sheets and sleeping.

Being busy makes him happy because Seungri likes the challenge of it; he likes the thrill of being able to finish something, the rush of electricity rushing through his veins, keeping him up at night and brimming with energy, even when he's feeling empty. 

 

> "Maknae, when are you coming home?" his hyung asks. His voice sounds distant, old, distorted by the static in the line, a side-effect of how far they are from each other.   _Buzz, hum, buzz, humm, buzzz._
> 
> _Where is home_ , Seungri wants to ask. Is it our dorm that we used to live in, that small, cramped place with nothing but bare beds and cold walls because we all left, and I think I'm the only one who wanted to stay? Where is home; does that include you and me and everyone else? Is it in your house, the one you moved into, the one we shared with Gaho and Julie? Is that my home?
> 
> "Maknae?"
> 
> Seungri closes his eyes.
> 
> Home? Where is home exactly? 

 

It keeps his mind off other things. ( _I am lonely, he whispers to the moon but no one answers.)_

There is never not a busy day for Seungri. 

 

***

 

He begs his parents to enroll him in school when he's four and cites reasons upon reasons with earnest, pleading eyes; Seungri knows they'll crack sooner or later because Hanna was coming soon and Seungri going to school will be the least of their worries. 

"Why not?" his mama says, cradling her stomach gently; pregnancy is a good look on her, her whole face glows with the soft morning light and Seungri thinks she's beautiful. He can't wait to see Hanna again. "It'll be good for our little Hyunnie to explore in a place where there's actual adult supervision." 

"B-but, he'll get hurt and-" his dad stutters, with weak flailing arms. He still thinks of Seungri as his tiny baby, the size of two oranges; Seungri knows he won't be able to rid that image from his mind for a while, but then his mom smiles at his dad.

It's bright and terrifying, full of thinly-veiled teeth because morning sickness was a pain in the ass and they had both witnessed her grind a fist full of melon seeds into fine dust, and so he does the correct thing and folds as easy as wet paper. "..Yes, dear." 

Seungri grins.

 

***

 

Two months later saw Seungri in front of his kneeling dad, trying to get him to let go of his leg as they both blocked the front of his new classroom. Despite Seungri telling him that he could take the bus to school, his dad had insisted, with a fervent light in his eyes, that he'd drop Seungri at school directly.

"They'll eat you alive!" 

"Aww, daad!" Seungri pats his head gently. "I'll be fine, everyone will be super nice. I promise." 

 _"Seungriiii!"_  his dad wails even harder. "Why are you so cute??"

It takes him and his teacher at least half an hour to convince his dad to leave, and even then, they had to call his mom; Seungri's pretty sure he's already gained a reputation for having the clingiest father, but when faced with all those curious, little eyes from behind the doorway, and the sound of his dad sniffling, all Seungri feels is warm inside. 

He feels wanted.

 

***

 

There’s something about attending school (again) that makes him feel new.

Nothing quite beat the feeling of being surrounded by screaming children who had the tendency blurt out everything inside their head, not having built a brain-to-mouth filter yet. There's a certain honesty about them, a simplicity that Seungri likes.

"Hi, I'm Lee Seunghyun but you can call me Seungri!" Seungri introduced himself to his class. "My favorite color is blue and I'm good at singing and dancing! I'm four years old and I'm going to have a little sister soon." 

A girl stood up from her desk abruptly at that, and Seungri paused, thinking that she had something to say. She did.

"I like pink and purple. They’re pretty colors. I used to liked yellow but I got fed up with it." She stared into the distance and suddenly, Seungri saw the five year old child in her flowery dress with matching ribbons in her hair become a battle-hardened veteran. 

 _"Too many things are yellow now."_  And Seungri had no doubt that if this were a movie, she'd knock back the last of her whiskey and get up from the bar like she was walking towards her grave. Then she blinked and grinned at him, bold and daring. "Name's Bae-An by the way and  _I'm_  the star dancer in this grade, you better buckle up buddy. I'm not gonna go easy on you!" 

At the end of the day, Seungri made many new friends, and was also reminded of the old Gwangju charm that he had been so proud of, once upon a lifetime.

 

> _People ask him where he gets his confidence from and Seungri knows many of BIGBANG's fans cite his previous experience in dancing but deep down, Seungri knows that's not it._
> 
> _Seungri doesn't remember which book it was in, but when he was young, he snuck into a nearby library instead of going to school. He doesn't remember much about that day, only the amused smile of the local librarian and the squirming pit of nervousness in his stomach, but above all that, he remembers this:_
> 
> _"GwangJu is a city famous for their history of protest to dictatorship. Though there were riots to gain back democracy all over the country, GwangJu had the most fierce collisions. Because of their history of pro-democracy movement, people from the city are known to be **strong**  and  **firm**   **no matter the hardships**."_
> 
> _And Seungri thinks he's never been more proud of his birthplace that day; he's never lost that sense of pride since._

 

Seungri can't pinpoint the exact moment when he forgot about little old Gwangju, but he doesn't think he wants to remember either. He makes a promise to himself: even when he starts travelling again, to Iceland or Seoul or China or the USA or Malaysia, he's never going to forget Gwangju and the principles it taught him. 

He lost that once, and it broke him. 

Seungri's learned his lesson; he's not going to forget it again.

 

***

 

Being in school makes Seungri feels young. Like he's allowed to be as weird as he wants, as wild as he wants, ask as many questions as he wants, and roam the hallways like it's an unexplored jungle waiting to be conquered without having to deal with any of the consequences that come with being old.

He studies the curve of the ceilings and its plastic glow in the dark stars like they're maps, follows the pathway down the hall and turns left into a corridor full of windows.

There's light, beautiful, aching light that calls to Seungri like a guide light. He cradles it in the palm of his hands and welcomes its warmth.  

It's the second week of school and Seungri already, he is lost again. He is walking underneath the arches holding up the school building, peeks behind hallway curves and dips inside its windows, and he thinks it's a little like magic; the heaviness of its atmosphere and the way the air moves as he passes by - markings and carvings of past generations: a secret, confession, a name that's long forgotten.

Seungri never does manage to come to class on time. His friends and teachers ask if he needs help finding his way to classrooms, like they think he's directionally-challenged, but he's not. Seungri knows the school and its secret rooms and locked doors like it's the back of his hand, but it's hard. Sometimes.

Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, Seungri spots a familiar tuff of black hair or he's waving hi to a flash of brown eyes from the distance and someone tells him there's no one there. Other times, he's walking in the middle of a crowd of children and teachers, talking to someone until he picks out a familiar laugh that's  _gasp-smothered-choked_ and freezes, but no one ever hears. 

Seungri stands alone, balanced on a tightrope that separates dreams from reality, but sometimes, Seungri forgets which side he's standing over. 

At this point though, Seungri's not quite sure what the difference is. 

 

 

***

 

Seungri likes to be busy because it means that he'll fall asleep right away when he gets home. But on the rare nights that he isn't tired enough to knock out right away, he dreams.

He dreams of stars and brown eyes and laying on wet grass; the air being filled with the smell of earth after constant rain. 

"What do you dream of?" his dad asks, his voice low and heavy with sleep. He's been awake for hours now, trying to take care of mama and Seungri at the same time. He smooths Seungri's sweaty hair from his forehead and flashes a tired smile. "How can I help you?"

Some part of him thinks back to his dream and he wants to just lie down on the cold, wet soil and never get up again. 

"It's fine dad," Seungri says and he can already feel the tired pull of his eyelids along with the pitter-patter of rain burrowing into his eardrums. "I'll be fine." 

His dad breathes with a certain sadness, it weighs on the corner of his mouth and eyes, like he's reading into him much more than Seungri would want him to, and pulls him close. "Seungri-ah, if you ever need help..."

"I know dad." 

 

***

 

_Seungri remembered when he's three. Perhaps it is because of the magic that flows through his body like streams of starlight; Seungri has never breathed a word of his dreams to anyone before. Even though lying leaves a bad taste on his tongue - bitter coffee beans and dried lemons - he'd always known better._

_Or perhaps, it is simply because of the shock of seeing a leader who's not a leader or a singer or a star anymore that forces the visions to surface. Seungri cannot say which of these is the reason that he remembers them, cannot say if it was perhaps a combination of these factors that forced him to remember._

_Yet as he watches the boy on TV sing, as he watches the boy grin and laugh, Seungri's vision blurs and he thinks that it's all very familiar._

_Then everything is in dulled, muted, colors and Seungri's surroundings change. He sees visions of a past long forgotten, long finished; he sees himself and a man with a shock of crimson hair, blonde hair, white hair, black hair. He sees hardships and tears and lies and pain then finally-_

_Finally, within the light of a thousand crowns glittering like stars in the sky, he sees **happiness**._

 

***

 

Somewhere along the line, Seungri meets Jung Yunho who smiles cockily and says cheesy lines like 'Let me show you how the King does it' and it's so, so hilarious that Seungri thinks he's a breath of fresh air. 

"Hyung, how are you so good at dancing?" Seungri asked, eyes starry and bright when Jung Yunho twists his arm and shoulders just right. He is a genius at dancing, Seungri admires momentarily. For an eleven year old. 

Jung Yunho rubs the tip of his nose and acts as if he didn't care for anyone's praise, but the red of his ears betray his true emotions. He scoffs arrogantly. "It's just talent and hardwork, I guess. Mostly talent."

Seungri's never realized how cocky Jung Yunho had been when he was younger and the sight of him wearing and _strutting around_ in low-pants and sunglasses is delight.  

Two weeks later, Seungri joins the older boy's dance troupe, takes over the spot of star dancer, and  _relishes_  at the sight of Jung Yunho's considering glares.  ~~He's missed this.~~

 

***

 

Green tea underneath autumn trees, Seungri meets a crow with peculiar eyes and a wisteria tree with the biggest trunk and brightest flowers. If he stays long enough, he gets to see the first stars peak through its blossoms, twinkling like little secrets and Seungri wants to know them all. On those days, Seungri just wants to be left alone, kind of wants to be a faerie or a forest nym who can travel mysterious forests with nothing but the moonlight guiding him and not have to worry about life or sad, brown eyes or dreams that hurt. 

"But Hyunnie-ah, who would keep me company if you left?" his mama asks him, teasingly.

Seungri places his head on the curve of her chest and tells her seriously, "I'd call you every single day, but mama, I  _have_  to leave. I can hear them, you know."

"Hear who?" She looks a bit sad now, and Seungri's never wanted to make her sad - but Seungri wants to lie to her even less.

"They're calling out to me, the world is calling my name." His mama has always known that his desire to go is far stronger than any connection he's made to anyone. It's what keeps his heart pumping, his mind racing, because even though he loves her, Seungri wants to be happy more than anything. 

And if he has to, then... 

Seungri looks outside his window frames; the city is asleep and the stars are out. He breathes in cold air and settles. 

 

***

 

2 AM heard the first words he said that morning, softly. 

"Is BIGBANG worth it?"

 

***

 

"My little busy bee," his dad coos at him, wrapping Seungri up into a warm hug that makes him smile because it felt as if nothing could ever reach him inside his dad's arms. "What have you been up to today?"

Seungri pouts at him and whines, "Daaaaaad, I'm a  _panda_  not a  _bee._ " 

His dad chuckles, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Panda, eh? Honey, did you know our little Seungri is a panda now?" 

His mom's head pops out from the kitchen, her face lights up at the picture the two made, and laughs. "Of course I did, dear. He told us  _ages_  ago." She exaggerates the word with a certain theatrical flare that leaves Seungri muffling his own giggles.

"He did?" his dad says jokingly. His jokes are never funny. "I guess I am getting old if I've forgotten that my own son is a panda!" And pulls out a small panda from his suit. Seungri gasps. 

"What do you know?" his dad laughs, like he can pretend his eyes aren't misting over. He thinks Seungri's growing up too fast, Seungri thinks he's not fast enough. "I guess, I didn't forget after all!" 

Seungri has so much fun that he almost forgets about him. Almost, but not quite.

His mom turns on the radio. 

_"We are terribly sorry to announce that Little Roora will not be coming back. We apologize for the fans who sent their support to the group and thank you for the time you spent supporting them."_

Seungri stands shock, clutches his panda tightly and tries not to sink. The words reach his ears but he can't understand them. Seungri can't believe it. Little Roora disbanding?

Deep inside his mind, he had guessed it was inevitable. He had known that it would happen; Kwon Jiyong hadn't known for being in Little Roora after all but still, Seungri can't help but feel a sinking feeling in his chest, like cold ice running down his spine and his stomach feels weird.

"Hyunnie-ah?" His mom's voice is gentle, she picks him up and props him on her hip. Seungri clutches her shirt like he's three again, with chubby fists and a wet eyes. "My little panda," she coos. "It's alright, mama's got you." 

His mom whispers reassurances that he'll get over this. That he'll find another band to love, that it'll be ok - but that's not why he's crying.

Seungri knows that it isn't the last time he'll see Kwon Jiyong. He's still only five after all. He'll see Kwon Jiyong sooner or later in the future but he couldn't help it, Seungri bites his lip and _—_

 

 

> "Jiyong-hyung is the best." Seungri murmurs quietly into the crown of Jiyong's head, holds his leader's body as best as he could, even as the other screamed and clawed at him; nails scratching his skin, knees pressing painfully on his thighs; G-Dragon was spitting venom and Seungri felt like he was being torn apart. But underneath that vicious persona, Seungri could feel his hyung's tears seeping into his shirt, the way he shook with every inhale. "Jiyong-hyung is so strong."
> 
> It was true, Seungri thinks. Even after BIGBANG's scandals, even after BIGBANG's hiatus - even after all that. Seungri still thinks the world of Jiyong. "You'll get better. I know you will and I'll be there to help you." 
> 
> "Promise?" Jiyong whispers out miserably and Seungri feels his fingernails biting into his skin. The older man pulls Seungri's head down to meet his wild, burning eyes and Seungri thinks of how desperate he must be for someone to help him, that he would believe Seungri - silly, foolish Seungri - so wholeheartedly.
> 
> "You promise?" Jiyong presses.
> 
> And Seungri replies, softly. "Yes."

  

 _—_ hopes that someone was comforting Kwon Jiyong at that moment. Kwon Jiyong has always been the type to burn. 

 

***

  

Seungri hits the ground running the moment he learnt how to walk; never wasting any time he could spare, not when he had so much to catch up to. Seungri hits the ground running, flying across the ground like there's a devil chasing him. 

He runs and runs and  _runs_. 

He can't waste his life waiting for someone else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> "Forever and ever," Jiyong whispered to him, his fingers were tangled up in Seungri's. His lips were so, so close. "You're mine maknae." He says it like a vow, like a proposal, like a promise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_So **why** , why is he still searching?_

 

***

 

Kwon Jiyong confuses Seungri. Seungri knows him and knows that he's vital to the creation of Seungri. He was the one who took Lee Seunghyun and turned him into Seungri of BIGBANG, bright and bold and brilliant. Seungri owes, owed, so much to him; that leader of his once upon a time.

But Seungri also knows that Kwon Jiyong is selfish.

Kwon Jiyong can be perfect and terrifying and radiates power and steel. But underneath it all, under heavy covers and smog-filled skies, he's ugly and insecure and made of tears and blood. He bites out fire, can look every inch like the reptilian creature he was named after and melt into a puddle of giggles right after.

He's everything and nothing all at once. 

Kwon Jiyong is someone who Seungri loves, hates, wishes, admires, wants, likes, envies,  _misses more than—_

 ~~Seungri is his friend, enemy, brother, inspiration, lover, desire, obsession, ma~~ kn a e

  

> "Maknae is mine."

  

***

 

Who is Kwon Jiyong to him?

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couldn't figure out a perfect way to end this chapter,,,,,,


	5. this is what he thinks of them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jung yunho and his thoughts on seungri and jiyong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i,,, know nothing about dancing competitions,, i'm sory,, please don't hesitate to,, snmack me,, i am a soft potato,,, also,, i hate how long this chapter was i just gave up on it boi i'm crying

 

**chapter five**

 

Jung Yunho is nine when he meets Lee Seunghyun _-fucking-call-me-_ Seungri. 

He doesn't regret meeting him though, and maybe that's what pisses him off the most about everything that's anything that's gotta do with Seungri. 

 

***

 

Yunho is a dancer.

_**"The results have been tallied. Coming in third place is.."** _

Yunho has been dancing for a while now, two whole years to be exact, so he knew for a fact that he was  _good_ , good enough to get away with things other kids wouldn't be able to. 

It's not like Yunho flaunts it, he doesn't take advantage of the way his peers follow him or the way his dance teachers deliberately favor him. Yunho worked hard for the position of Best Dancer in school; spent too many nights neglecting his studies and chores, stealing minutes at work practicing, just for the chance to snatch the seat from his hyung _—_ and he did. So the way he saw it, Yunho deserved to brag a little. 

_**"...and finally, in first place, our winner is Jung Yunho with a score of 278. Congratulations and thank you to everyone who participated in our contest!"** _

The taste of salt on his tongue, sweat dripping down his shirt and neck, the feeling of exhilaration and his muscles burning beneath his skin. The coldness of the medallion and its heady weight against his chest. The look in everyone's eyes as they watched him and the shine of the spotlight overhead. 

Here he is, a kid of nine, who thought the entire world revolved around him, walking around with two years of dancing hanging on his belt, the title of Best Dancer, straight A's, three medals, and no one to prove him wrong. 

Here he is feeling like he's on top of the whole goddamn world because the fruits of his hardwork is clear for everyone to see but as he glances towards the audience, sees Hanwook and a couple of his dancemates cheering but doesn't find the faces he's looking for, Yunho thinks victory is awfully bittersweet. 

An hour later and Yunho is at work where the competition _—_  the screams, the dancing, the lights _—_  seem so far away from now. Like it was nothing more than a dream. 

Yunho stocks cardboard boxes and rolls stickers with a mechanical grace. His hands go through the motions with well practiced ease, his wrist flicking the sticker gun and finger pulling the trigger as his feet carry him to where he needed to go without prompting.

He's getting a promotion soon, and with it, will get an increase in pay. 

It is summer and the heat is sweltering, unbearable almost, but underneath the artificial cooling of the supermarket, Yunho has no excuse for why his skin was burning up. Sweat pools at the base of his neck and his feet are heavy. 

Underneath his shirt, Yunho's medal is nothing more than a frozen surface against his skin and much heavier now than it did on stage. 

 

***

 

"Yunho-ah," his mom sighs. She pushes the letter underneath her purse as she sits up from the couch. Yunho can see the words  _water bill_ and  _deadline_ from where he's standing. She smiles at him tiredly, the lines underneath her eyes have gotten worse. She looks older than usual. "How was your day?"

"It was okay." 

Her smile brightens, ever so slightly. "Really? That's good. I know you've been practicing for your dance contest, when was it again? Next week, right? I'll try to ask for an early shift next week; come home in time and get your father to come. He's free next week so we can bring your sister and all come to watch you."

Yunho's medal is heavy and cold. He doesn't correct her.

"It's fine mom, it's not that important."

"No, really Yunho. I can come _—_ " the landline rings and the sound is glaringly loud in the silence in the room. Her breath is jagged, helpless because they both know who's calling. Yunho looks away first. 

"You can pick that up, I'll be in my room," Yunho says and leaves before she can stop him. He listens to her footsteps grow fainter the further she walks away. He closes the door to his room when he hears the ringing stop, but the faint tone of her voice is still audible.

_"— another shift? But you told me you would be free next week."_

Yunho buries his disappointment six feet under, where all his other lies and wants lay forgotten, closes his eyes, and focuses on breathing.  

"It's fine," Yunho says to himself. "I'm used to this." If he repeats it enough, until his tongue turns numb and his eyes grow tired in the dark of night, he thinks it almost sounds genuine. Like he could keep it together, keep himself together for one more day.

Deep down, Yunho knows that it's just a lie, quietly unraveling, ready to fall apart at the slightest push. But until then, Yunho will keep himself together, scrunch his eyes shut, and—

 

***

 

It's raining in Gwangju.

Yunho's hair is slightly wet and his shoes were somewhat soggy, but the warm air of the dance event venue does little to dry him. He gazes up at the stage and its smooth overhead windows currently reflecting the dreary weather outside: grey rain clouds and dark skies. 

It's a shame, Yunho's performed at this venue before, competed here and he remembers the sight of brilliant sunlight drawing patterns on the wooden floor of the stage, its gleaming light setting the curtains alight in alternating shades of blue, and the feeling of warmth sinking into his bones.

Now though, there's none of that. 

They enter the venue and Yunho fiddles with the thick band of his bracelet as he glances around at the crowds of people milling around them and then at the participants.

He can't see anyone he recognizes, which makes sense because they're standing inside the room for the Minis competition.  

"Hyung, what are we doing here?" Yunho asks, he flashes a smile at the kids who wave at him. He knows better than to take his mood out on other people, especially when they're toddlers. "I thought we were going to see the younger Juniors." 

"We have time Yunho," Hanwook dismisses flippantly. His eyes were scanning the room with a sense of purpose, looking for someone. Hanwook is one of the younger teachers at the dance studio Yunho goes to, but just because he was young didn't mean Hanwook wasn't capable; he had a pretty good dance record and Yunho knows Hanwook could do better than settling at a dance studio in Gwangju.

Sometimes though, Yunho's eyes narrow, he wonders if it was a good idea to leave the man in charge of children. 

Especially when he does things like this; Hanwook had told the class that he'd wanted to come early to watch the younger Juniors perform and Yunho had came along, because he was a good hyung who supports his dongsaengs, even though he knew the Junior event wouldn't be starting for a few more hours yet. 

"Ah." Hanwook makes an interested noise and Yunho glances up. "He's there."

Yunho doesn't see anyone he recognizes.

"You should pay attention Yunho. That boy's going to be entering our classes soon," Hanwook says contemplatively, rubbing his chin and looking serious for once. "It'd be great if you could show him around, since you're the most responsible person in my class." 

Yunho supposes that that's true enough and leans forward to get a closer look at where Hanwook was staring at. "Which boy hyung?" 

"Lee Seunghyun," Hanwook says. "The one wearing the big blue sweatshirt and panda backpack."

Yunho spots him and his first thought is  _cute._ The sweatshirt Lee Seunghyun was wearing is clearly two sizes too big for him, a picture of a panda scribbled on the front; his hair is dark and floppy— the kind of hair that just begged to be touched —and his eyes were wide with delight.

Yunho couldn't exactly make out the shade of the boy's eyes but from what he can see, it is a warm color; soft like small pools of light, shining with innocence.

The clear excitement on his face is refreshing. Most of the kids who participated in the competitions tend to dress and act older than they actually are and while Yunho is sure that the method works for some, usually though, it was just uncomfortable. 

Lee Seunghyun on the other hand clearly knows his charm, and as he shrugs off his panda backpack, and slips off his sweatshirt, his costume does little to deter this thought: a soft, plain white shirt with delicate lace at the end of his sleeves that slides down his hand, low enough to cover the tips of his fingers; the niceness of his shirt should be at odds with his baggy black pants and red sneakers— but it works. 

"He's adorable," Yunho says without thinking. 

"He is," Hanwook acknowledges. "And he's skilled too. Lee Seunghyun's been dominating the Mini Division for the past few months, now. He's definitely one to watch out for, especially since he's only going to continue to grow." 

Yunho raises an eyebrow. Those were high praise for a newcomer, high expectations too. 

_**"Welcoming number 23, Lee Seunghyun who will be performing an interpretive routine in regards to the theme:[Beginnings](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtOOk0IKixM)."** _

Yunho tilts his head.

An odd theme, normally people chose simple themes like happiness or sadness or heartbreak; something less.. conceptional. This could only turn out incredibly bad or absurdly good.

As the first piano notes echo throughout the quieting venue, Lee Seunghyun brings his hands up from his side to his cheek, and the emotion on his face captures Yunho's attention. It's distant, somewhat wistful. His face tilted back and towards the skylight, an arm outstretched, as if reaching for something. 

Yunho glances up again, just out of curiosity, but it's still raining and nothing about the sky has changed. It's dark and gloomy, there was no light to be seen, but Lee Seunghyun didn't seem to mind.

His other wrist reached towards the ceiling, revolves in a deliberate half-circle almost as he were leaving a soft caress, before it trails throught the air and returns to his chest. 

"Perfect balance," Hanwook murmurs.

Yunho's eyes flicker towards Lee Seunghyun's feet. He's standing on the edges of his feet and the tips of his toes; it should look awkward, Yunho knows how hard it is to stay in that position for long, but Lee Seunghyun's body is perfectly still.

He looks like a doll. A perfect, delicate little doll ready to break at the slightest breeze or push. But at the same time...

Lee Seunghyun exhales and the tenseness of his body relaxes. Loosens.

...He looks like he'd be able to bounce back from anything that tried to break him.

Soon, a fragile melody accompanies the high notes and Lee Seunghyun sweeps away into complex footwork. It is quick-paced, intricate and light, a rhythmic dance that would look more in place with feet clad in satin, not scuffed up sneakers or from a boy who couldn't be older than four. 

Yunho doesn't recognize the song, it's classical, much more old-fashioned than anything he's used to listening to. Yunho certainly wouldn't choose it as a song to compete with.

 _It suits him though, oddly enough_ , Yunho thinks. 

Lee Seunghyun's body seemed to create the music than follow it, with every arc and curl of his arms and fingers, mimicking the play of the piano, sometimes reaching out towards the crowd, and then back at himself with heartbreaking fear. 

He dances like he's telling a story, connecting to the audience and the music, entirely committed to his choreography. Yunho watches the audience being drawn in by the boy's movements. His brown eyes sweep through the crowd and seemingly making contact with everyone, and Yunho couldn't help but notice the slight surge in the audience, a subconsious effort to get closer to the stage.

Lee Seunghyun had totally and completely captured the everyone's attention.

The music slows down, and with it, Lee Seunghyun's movements seem heavier; like there was a weight tied to his arms and legs, and the tip of his left foot drags against the floor while his arms visibly strained against the air, fighting against an unseen presence. His eyes though, they're faintly glowing and— or maybe it's just the light— they're burning with determination. 

Yunho wonders if he's the only who notices it.  

Violins enter and Lee Seunghyun gasps, a small smile lights up his face and dances across the stage with a hesitant grace that gradually grows strong, more confident. His feet are light now, like wings had been attached to them, leaving him floating in the air with no gravity holding him back, held up by the subtle sound of flutes in the background. 

Tiny hops. Tentative attempts to reach out that grow stronger with each leap.  _Smooth_.

Each step, each twist of his ankle and arch of his arms is a delight to watch. 

His body is nothing but the embodiment of quiet joy, a quiet happiness and determination on the verge of overflowing and Yunho finds himself, unwittingly, immersed in the performance. 

Lee Seunghyun spreads his arms out, like a bird coming back from flight, and his movements turn  _quick_. The small smile on his face gains teeth and it lifts his cheeks, so wide as if he no longer could hold it back.

It's infectious and Yunho sees many in the audience smiling in response. A quick glance at Hanwook showed that the older man was just the same, captivated.

He's completely captured everyone's attention.

Lee Seunghyun turns and seemingly looks straight at Yunho for a beat— his heart stops— just as the music rises into a crescendo. Yunho is breathless as the sound of violins bounces throughout the venue walls, and there's a moment of an anticipation before suddenly — he _jumps_. 

The music dies down into simple piano, coming back to a full circle and Lee Seunghyun makes his way back to the center of the stage, falls on the ground just as the last note plays, and stops.

"He's going to win."

Yunho turns from the screaming audience to Hanwook, his eyes are focused and calculating. It makes him look older, hardening his face. It is a bit strange to think about it, but without the ever-present grin on his face — he's quiet. 

Lee Seunghyun looks a bit dazed, as if he couldn't believe everything happening, but then he grins as bright as he did in his routine and cheers, waving at the crowd and cameras; from the sidelines, Yunho sees two figures making their way upstage to hug the boy.

 

**POINTS**

Technique: 18 points,  15 points,  20 points  
Performance: 20 points, 20 points, 19 points  
Musicality/Timing: 20 points, 17 points,  19 points  
Choreography: 12 points,  17 points,  18 points  
Creativity: 15 points, 20 points,  20 points

Lee Seunghyun's score:  **289**.

 

Lee Seunghyun's total score is 289 in the end, blowing out the rest of the competition by an absurd amount. There was no question about it, Lee Seunghyun is too skilled to be in the Minis division. 

"Wow," Hanwook murmurs, eyes bright and full of ambition. "He's...  _wow_."

 

*** 

 

He remembers now, the first time he had met Lee Seunghyun, so very different from the way he was now. 

_"Hyung, how are you so good at dancing?" Seungri asks, eyes starry and bright; there's an emotion there, that Yunho doesn't recognize but he can see admiration too, a genuine awe that only kids who didn't know any better could show, and it curls in his stomach like warm honey._

_Yunho rubs the tip of his nose, carefully avoiding eye contact. His ears were hot, and he scoffs. "It's just talent and hardwork, I guess. Mostly talent."_

It was months ago, during the beginning of the school year. Yunho had found the boy wandering in the senior class corridors with a lost look in his eyes. He's ashamed to admit his moment of weakness when he'd seen Lee Seunghyun's chubby, pink cheeks and tiny little fingers. 

In that small lapse in time, Yunho had thought about mentoring the kid, of calling him his personal dongsaeng and taking care of him. Lee Seunghyun had that brightness about him, the kind that left a soft glow on his face, like the moon, and Yunho had wanted to protect him.

Now though, now Yunho thinks of Lee Seunghyun, as his throat clicks in a dry gulp of apprehension, as a sneaky person.

Exceptionally so; he had the type of smile and charisma that naturally drew the eye in for a second, maybe even third take. It was a bittersweet thing to swallow, he admits, because Lee Seunghyun's appealing traits were both the source of his envy and admiration.

Lee Seunghyun is also (unsurprisingly) completely terrifying, the same way fire is: free and wild and all-consuming.

Lee Seunghyun is dangerous, even at the age of four, and some part of Yunho wasn't willing to directly confront him. 

Yunho's never been the religious type, but when he cocks his head and looks at Lee Seunghyun, he finds that there's _something_  in his voice that strikes Yunho as terrifying; a flicker in the air that he can't quite pick it out, at the very edge of his senses screaming:

_He's different._

It wasn't just him either, Yunho notes. There's a certain aura around Lee Seunghyun that marks him as someone special; as if the gods had spun him out of nothing and put him on earth as a trap for unsuspecting dancers and innocent nine-year-old boys. 

After that day at the dance competition, he came into Yunho's dance studio with a stupidly cheerful smile and instantly captured everyone hearts with his soft  _hello_  and laugh, an absurd,  _charming_  little laugh. 

Unsurprisingly, Lee Seunghyun became an instant hit with the girls who immediately monopolized his attention; Lee Seunghyun was a pretty kid, with his long eyelashes and soft baby skin. 

The other boys were also taken by him, with his endearing messy hair that begged to be ruffled and his mischievous grins, a willingness to go along with anything that seemed fun. Lee Seunghyun was the picture perfect image of a dongsaeng: polite, cute, respectful but comfortable to hang around.

Lee Seunghyun is almost shy, at first. Not shy in the typical insecure new kid way that everyone starts off with whenever they're in a new environment; Lee Seunghyun was more than comfortable in his own skin; it was almost enviable, the way Lee Seunghyun walks with a confidence Yunho was sure most adults didn't have.

Hanwook certainly didn't have that same confidence. 

But Lee Seunghyun also puts on an act that no one but Yunho seems to notice. He uses his sweet and innocent maskade as a defense, and everyone laps it up.

On some level, Yunho knows it's real, but there's a subtle sadness in his limbs, a cobweb full of spiders and secrets that clung to his every motion. Sometimes Yunho wants to rip off his smile, just to see what's underneath.

Lee Seunghyun wants something and Yunho doesn't know what. 

Yunho wonders, as he watches Lee Seunghyun interact with the others, if he'll ever be able to understand him. 

 

***

 

_Yunho is nine and lying has become part of his life to such an extent that he's not sure he can stop anymore._

 

_Tricks and falsehoods drip from his mouth so easily, stupid lies and harder lies, all of them taste the same underneath his tongue. (Sour lemons and bitter coffee.)_

_Yunho has spent too long covering his eyes and burying his emotions to know how to let go. He's spent too much time trying to hold himself together, that he's terrified that his lies will split him apart one day; burst out from his chest, open ribs and gaping throat._

_Yunho is ten and he doesn't know who he is anymore. Is he the boy who wants to become a prosecutor? The boy who wants to make his parents happy and be the perfect son? Is that him?_

_Is that who Yunho wants to be?_  

Yunho doesn't know.

 

***

 

Yunho decides right off the bat to just ignore the kid. Lee Seunghyun had nothing to do with Yunho and he wants to keep it that way. Hanwook couldn't make him hang out with the kid any longer than he had to, and if that made his other friends give him weird looks, well who cares? 

Lee Seunghyun could stay in the Mini Division, far away as possible from Yunho and everything would be fine.

He studiously ignores the voice in his head that suspiciously sounds like his sister saying he's an idiot if he thinks it's that simple and walks through the door. 

He waves to the front desk lady, and makes his way down to the studio room exactly one minute before the designated time he had been told to come with a greeting at the tip of his tongue  _—_  "I'm sorry I'm late!"  _—_  only to falter when another voice chirps from behind him.

"Ah, Yunho-hyung." Lee Seunghyun says with a bright smile. He gives him a little polite bow as the ears on his panda hat bob with the motion. It's disgustingly cute, enough to make Yunho angry. "Good evening!" 

Yunho mutters, "Good evening." 

"It's fine Seungri," Hanwook says and there's a large grin on his face that instantly makes Yunho suspicious. "I was waiting for the two of you. Come in, come in."

Yunho raises an eyebrow, knowing nothing good came out of Hanwook's excitement.

He looks around empty studio, "Where's everyone else hyung?" Yunho takes in the freshly waxed floors and just-shined-mirrors, other than the fact that the chairs were still stacked and in the same place they had left them last week, Yunho doesn't see anything that would warrant Hanwook's odd behavior. 

Lee Seunghyun sets his backpack down by the door. 

"I wanted to talk to the two of you about a contest." Hanwook explains, "Actually, the contest is more of a trial run— to see how well you guys work together. What I really want is for you two to be the centers of a new dance troupe; I believe that the two of you have what it takes. I wanted to ask what you think about it before I start looking for members to join; so how about it?"

His eyes are wide and bright, an air of anticipation hovers around him and Yunho is suddenly very aware of the fact that he's only twenty one. 

"A dance troupe?" Lee Seunghyun asks, hesitant. He blinks his big brown eyes at their dance instructor. "But I've only been here for three weeks?"

"And he's only four. He's a  _toddler_ ; a scarily talented toddler, yes, but a toddler nonetheless. I don't see how that's going to work out since he's in the Mini division and I'm about to enter the Teen division." Yunho pauses and adds as an afterthought, "No offense."

"None taken," Lee Seunghyun hums, he almost seems pleased and Yunho takes a subtle step back. 

"But studio directors and choreographers are the ones to decide which level a dancer is placed in based on how many hours a week the dancer trains or how skilled the dancer is. Seungri's way above the level of Minis, he'd be bumped into a higher division either way."

"That's not—  _Hyung_ , that's not the problem." Yunho says. "Please stop trying to pair up an nine-year-old and a four-year-old in a—  what? A competition full of older teens?" 

"But I know you're both more skilled." Hanwook pouts, honest-to-god  _pouts._

"How are you considered the adult around here?" Yunho asks, completely serious. 

"Well, what about the dance troupe? There's a competition coming up next year," he tries. "Yunho don't you want to compete wi-"

"No." Yunho replies immediately. No way in hell was he going to spend  _more_ time with mister perfect little prodigy any more than he had to. 

Hanwook droops down like a fragile, wilting flower and Yunho scoffs. Lee Seunghyun toddles up to the grown ass man and pats his back comfortingly. Yunho could hear him saying things like _'it's ok_ hyung _, there's always next, next year, or the year after that.'_

It was so infuriating that Yunho wanted to punch something.

"Hyung, since there isn't practice I'll just go home." Yunho announce, he spins on his heel and makes his way to the door. He takes his first step only to be stopped when Lee Seunghyun pipes up.

"We can practice together, Yunho-hyung!" He has this look in eyes, bright and knowing all at once. Yunho hates the way he makes him feel, like water, as if he's easily seen through. 

"Might as well be productive since you're here," Hanwook points out. 

Yunho closes his eyes briefly, and breathes in deeply, before turning around and facing the mirror. Yunho's faced through worse things than dancing with Lee Seunghyun.

He brings an easy, confident smile to his lips and says to his reflection, "Yeah, ok. But you gotta keep up with me."

Lee fucking Seunghyun's face lights up, cherub cheeks flushing with excitement as he grins happily.

Yunho doesn't remember most of the rest of that day.

It passed in a blur of continuous motions and music, the only constants were Hanwook's presence beside him and the heavy weight of Lee Seunghyun's eyes on him. Not that Yunho had a problem with Lee Seunghyun's stare, he was more than used to that feeling, for one. 

Usually Yunho would've ignored it.

'Usually' didn't come into play anymore.

It couldn't.

_You're such a good dancer Seungri! I think you both have a real chance at competing! Think about it, will you?_

Yunho keeps looping back to that day of practice, to the half-imagined heat searing into his shoulder as Lee Seunghyun danced by his side, to the way that he had seethed beneath the surface, feelings bubbling and popping in his chest—

He doesn't remember most of that day, only the look in his eyes through the mirror and the way he'd left Lee Seunghyun behind, went to work, and carried on with his day as best he could.

_You're such a good dancer!_

"Shut up," he whispers out loud, curled in bed with his pillow over his head. The heater broke down again and the heaviest blanket in their house was given to his little sister because she had needed it more; his blanket is thin and does little to protect him from the cold air. Yunho shivers.

Yunho knows that tomorrow, he'll have to skip school again and negotiate with the repair uncle down the street in order to keep them warm for the upcoming winter. 

He has a test on Wednesday and it's going to be worth 20% of his grade and his boss asked him to come in on Tuesday for an early night shift, so Yunho has to remember to pick his little sister up early that day. His parents should be home before 8 on Friday but before then, he'll be in charge of making lunch and maybe dinner.

It'll be a busy week but Hanwook canceled practice on Saturday, so Yunho should have time to rest on that day. 

Yunho has so many things to do, he feels tired just thinking about it. He should catch whatever minutes of sleep he can but he can’t turn off his thoughts; Lee Seunghyun comes racing back to the forefront of his mind, and Yunho tries not to think about him any more than he has to, but his brain doesn't listen.

Yunho tries to stop himself from remembering, but it's all unfurling and stretching out in his head, like petals falling apart at the stem, until Lee Seunghyun is the only thing left in the center, and Yunho feels helpless. 

_We should dance together more, hyung._

 

***

 

"Yunho-ah, I have another shift tonight; I'm so sorry. I know this was supposed to be your break day, but could you take care of your sister for us? You father is _—_ "

"It's fine ma," Yunho says. He smiles and it spreads across his face thinly. "I can take care of her. I'm used to it." 

His mom smiles back, hesitantly. "How is dance practice by the way? I heard you got an award?" It's awkward, but she's making an effort to reach out to him and Yunho thinks it's better than nothing. 

"It's been," Yunho pauses, just a fraction. She doesn't notice. " _—_ fine. I like it, a lot." The admission is sudden, and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. It only serves to further kill the atmosphere between them. 

"Good," his mom coughs. She's uncomfortable but Yunho knows she's trying and that should be enough right? "That's _—_  that's good." She smiles, pleased, as if happy that she had gotten something right for once. 

"Yeah," Yunho smiles, and tries not to think about Lee Seunghyun or his parents, not the way they'd cried when his name had been announced or way they'd looked proud, immensely proud of him, even before his name had been called out. 

 

***

 

Pride is a concept that Yunho is intensely familiar with. It's one the flaws that Yunho tries not to show, because people who are too prideful are considered arrogant. 

Yunho is prideful and possessive over the few things he's got. He's got no sense of shame when it comes to getting the things he wants. He loves it when people praise him and look at him with admiration in his eyes. He loves it even more when he proves the people who doubt him wrong, because Yunho loves earning the right to be prideful.

He has no love for those who are only full of hot air.  _If you're going to brag, you have to earn it, through sweat or blood or tears._  

Winning dance contests has got nothing to do with the prestige or money— not entirely anyway, Yunho's not gonna say no to more money, but Yunho just thinks it would be nice to prove other people wrong. People look at him with his secondhand clothing and his jockey build, read about his poor background and hear his deep voice, and judge him for it. 

It's why Yunho wrote down his future career goal as a prosecutor. No one expects Jung Yunho to become a prosecutor, much less thinks he knows what one even is.

_He's smart but he already's got a perfect future as a construction worker._

_That's mean.. but you're right haha._

_Yunho's so lucky, he doesn't have to worry about anything._

_He's always wearing that same jacket everyday. It's fraying at the edges._

_It's to be expected, I mean, look at his parents. What were they thinking? Two children? Can they even take care of one?_

_I heard he works at the supermarket nearby._

_That Yunho boy over there... I heard his family's involved in the legal industry. How did they become like that?_

Yunho's always cared too much about what other people thought of him, no matter how much he tried otherwise. It's unbearable at times and Yunho just wants to prove them wrong. Not because he wants people to like him, but for his own self-esteem. His pride.

If he could prove that he's intelligent enough to become a prosecutor and  _succeed_ despite the odds stacked against him, wouldn't that be perfect? Doubly so, if he can regain his family's honor.

He tells his parents this and they're proud of him; they smile at him, tired delicate lifts of the corner of their lips that stretch across their faces like rubber bands and tell him that they'll contact his uncles and aunts for help.

The glow on their faces and the shine in his dad's eyes say to Yunho that he'd said the right thing.

But then again, life never goes the way you expect it to, and when Yunho falls in love with dancing, he finds that his dreams of becoming a prosecutor pale greatly to the thrill of music. 

 

***

 

It was as if Hanwook had taken the day as an okay sign because from that day forth, he partnered the two of them constantly. It didn't matter to the man that Lee Seunghyun wasn't supposed to be in the Juniors class, or that Yunho wasn't supposed to be in the Minis class. 

"Hyung, tell me why again I'm demonstrating a dance move for four year olds?" Yunho asks with a blank smile. "Especially when I should be practicing with my own class. You know. The Junior class. For people  _my_  age?"

 _"Pchhhht,"_  Hanwook waves his hand in a carefree manner. The man has obviously never experienced the concept of stress. "It's fine Yunho. Seungri doesn't seem mind."

 _"Seungri_ is a four year old." Yunho grits. The name bubbles on the tip of his tongue, it tastes like lemon and honey. Not coffee. 

"Semantics." 

Yunho wants to scream at someone because worst part about it wasn't the fact that he couldn't avoid Lee Seunghyun, no. If it had been just that, he would have been able to handle it one way or another, but it wasn't.

The  _worst_  part about it, is that he gets front row seats to Lee Seunghyun in his natural habitat, a side to him that Yunho hadn't noticed before. He could've gone without knowing how bizarre the four year old was, with his infectious smiles and absurd optimism. 

The worst part about it is the realization that Lee Seunghyun is very easy to like.

"Hyuuung," Lee Seunghyun whines cutely, wetting his eyes in a devastating manner and clutches the older boy's hand coyly in that spoiled way children do. "Come'on dance with me."

"No." Yunho bluntly replies because he's busy wiping the sweat from the back of his hair. It's a hard task considering that he forgot he had given his own towel to his sister because she started swimming classes last week.

Yunho's never realized how much he sweated before. Is it healthy for him to be losing so much salt? He wipes his hands on his shorts. It sticks to his thighs disgustingly.

Lee Seunghyun pouts at him before he leaves. Yunho thinks he's gone for good when he trots back, holding out a towel to him that Yunho accepts with a quiet thanks. Yunho realizes after he leaves that the towel belongs to the younger boy's and when he brings it back the next day, Lee Seunghyun refuses to take it. 

The worst part about it is the realization that maybe, just maybe, Yunho doesn't dislike him as much as he claims to be.

Lee Seunghyun catches everyone's eye each time he walks through the door with his stupid little panda hat and backpack and tiny little shoes and despite what Yunho tries to say about himself, he's not immune to it either. 

He makes people feel good about themselves whenever they're around him.

He worms his way into people's hearts as easily as breathing and sometimes it makes Yunho want to cry because that had been  _him_ ,  _he_  had the one everyone looked to,  _he_  had been the one who danced like the world spun around him and he wants to hate him so much but-

But then he looks up and sees Lee Seunghyun's silly, stupid grin on his stupid pink face with his bright eyes and bubbly voice and thinks  _cute_ ;becauseYunho has always been an idiot who cared too much.

 

***

 

Yunho finds a tape recording of him.

It's Saturday, a day where no one was supposed to be at the studio but Yunho had needed an escape. he had needed a little time to himself, away from everyone else and their expectations and problems, so he came here to dance it away.

Because if he's ditching school, he might as well be doing something productive right?

The Janitor always forgets to lock the window in the back hallway and there are no cameras there so climbing through is easy enough. Yunho means to tell someone about it, for security purposes, but he always forgets. Often times on purpose. 

It's not like he was interested in seeing more of Lee Seunghyun's dancing. The reason he clicked play was because Yunho had been bored. 

It was a 50-second video of him dancing a stupid little dance, wiggling his leg and holding his arms above his head.

_It was awful._

Yunho watches it sixteen more times.

The look on Lee Seunghyun's face when he busted out those moves the next day, during class, is almost enough for Yunho to consider it to have been a good use of his time.

 

_***_

 

The thing is, Yunho wasn't nearly as petty or insecure enough to be jealous of a four year old. People who get jealous because of people younger than them are fucking idiots and Yunho does not have enough patience to deal with that kind of stupidity. 

Rather than being jealous, Yunho would rather hone his own skills and challenge them headfirst.

"You do realize that challenging a four-year-old to battle is just as stupid right?" Ji-Hye drawled at him, having heard Yunho's monologue. Damn it, Yunho had to remember to stop doing that. "I can still hear you oppa."  _DAmn._

Yunho didn't dislike Lee Seunghyun because he had been jealous. 

"So why did you not like him?" Ji-Hye prompts. 

"What is this, therapy hour?" Yunho asks, and now he wants to laugh. Ji-Hye wriggles her toes at him but doesn't deny it. Yunho knows she's a sucker for sad stories, especially juicy ones and if she had the chance, she'd stay home and watch sad opera shows all day. 

He looks up at her, who is staring at him with curious eyes. "There's a boy in my dance class," Yunho says carefully and stops, because he didn't know what he could say without spilling his heart out completely. 

Ji-Hye's eyes narrow. "You're not going to tell that you fell in love with him are you?"

"What?" Yunho yelps, and then he scowls. "Why would you—  _ew_ no? He's f _our—"_

She sighs, relieved. "Oh good, because I was going to smack you for a second there." She peeks down at him loftily. "I'm fine with you liking guys though."

Yunho is speechless. He doesn't know where to begin with that. Ji-Hye wiggles her eyebrows at him. 

"No," Yunho says. "I am not talking about this with you." 

Ji-Hye pouts and sighs dramatically. "Fine, you spoilsport. Tell me about this boy then," her eyes soften. "Why don't you like him?"

"Because.." Yunho thinks about Lee Seunghyun, about his smiles, about his dancing, about his parents, about his life. He thinks about how Lee Seunghyun makes him feel whenever he looks at him with those bright, clear eyes. Yunho is scared, because he didn’t know what that meant in terms of everything else in his life that  _should_  have mattered more."..I don't know." He doesn't like how lost he sounds.

Yunho doesn't like not knowing why he feels something, doesn't like being confused in general. He's not used to feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, because Yunho used to _—_  once upon a time _—_ know exactly who he was and what he wanted. 

Lee Seunghyun makes Yunho feel dangerous, like he's on the edge of something, on the verge of falling. Lee Seunghyun is the hammer that will smash everything Yunho has kept glued together into pieces. 

"Oppa, are you okay?" Ji-Hye asks, her mouth is pressed into a thin line, worried. She gets it from their dad, Yunho thinks. "I've never heard you.. so tired before."

"I don't know." Yunho studies the uneven shade on their carpet floor, picking at the stiff straw it's turned into. Yunho thinks it might've been from juice or coffee once. It's hard to tell from it's color. "I'm so..." 

"Oppa, you know you can be selfish right? You know it doesn't matter if they _—_ " Ji-Hye seems to catch herself but it's already said, and Yunho  _knows_. He knows she was awake that night too. "Oppa, you don't have to be strong all the time. You can cry if you want to." 

"When did you grow up?" Yunho asks, and Ji-Hye laughs, sad and tired and everything Yunho has never wanted her to feel. 

"Oppa, we're all growing up too fast these days."

 

***

 

_"Just get Yunho to do it! He can get another job."_

_"He has dance practice, you know this!"_

_"He should give it up! I know he wants to become a prosecutor, let him focus on that! We're already saving for university, if he can just make it through the exams then it'll be easier."_

_"He's already getting good grades, he has all A's! You can't just tell him—"_

_"Tell me how long are we going to humor this? We both know he's not going anywhere with dancing! It's better for all of us if he gives it up. He's just being foolish right now."_

_"He wants to be a dancer."_

_"What."_

_"He wants to—"_

_"He's **lying**. We cannot afford this, do you hear me?  **We cannot afford to continue letting him do this.** "_

Yunho squeezes his eyes shut. 

 

***

 

"Hello Yunho-hyung," Lee Seunghyun chirps at him, incessantly like a fucking bird with no filter. The kid just couldn't catch a hint. Couldn't understand that Yunho didn't want to be near him. "Yunho-hyung how are you—"

 _"Shut up will you?"_ Yunho's lungs freeze, like ice. He catches a glimpse of Lee Seunghyun's face and sees the mix of  _hurt/worry/understanding/concern-concern-concern._ The look of  _how-do-I-help_ and _what-do-I-do_ and _tell-me-what-you-need_ on Lee Seunghyun's face hurts, it clogs in Yunho's throat like burning coals and he laughs and laughs and laughs.

The sound is harsh and bitter. 

"Hyung," Lee Seunghyun says, already in front of him. He reaches forward immediately, grasping Yunho's hands. "Hyung."

"Stop it," Yunho chokes out. He's shaking; the world spins beneath his feet and he can't move. "Fuck you! Fuck you and — and fuck him! _Fuck him_! I'm so fucking  _angry_." 

"I'm sorry," Lee Seunghyun says. He's so sincere about it, achingly sincere and Yunho can't handle that right now. 

"I  _hate him,_ " Yunho's voice breaks, a tiny little sob escapes his throat. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. He doesn't want to fall apart in front of Lee-fucking-Seunghyun of all people. "I  _hate_ him. How could he  _say_ that, how could he — after he — and he thinks I'm _lying_ to him—!" 

Lee Seunghyun crushes Yunho against his chest. Yunho fights, pushes against the smaller boy for a moment, but something snaps inside his chest and he ends up grabbing onto the boy's shirt, twisting his hands up in it. 

" _What gives him the right?!_ " Yunho shouts, voice breaking under the force of his anger. "How could he say that to me, even though I tried so hard I — I hate him, I don't want to see him. I thought he cared, I thought that he'd let me keep this at least _but he didn't._  Everything I went through, the things I didn't say because I didn't want to be a  _ **fucking bother**_  comes rushing back!"

" _It's not_ ** _fair!_** " Yunho screams.  

"I know," Lee Seunghyun says. One hand strokes through Yunho's hair. "I know it's not fair. Life is never fair, but I wish it was, Yunho-hyung."

Yunho's knees buckle and he sinks, pulling Lee Seunghyun with him to the ground. Lee Seunghyun shifts and lets Yunho stay curled against him. He keeps stroking his hand through Yunho's hair, repetitive, comforting movements.

"I hate him," Yunho says again, quiet. But that's not the truth. Not the whole truth.

"I hate them," Yunho says, but he's trying to convince himself of that more than anything.

_I'm tired and angry._

_He hurt me and I'm not at fault here. I just want to be happy and they just— I just—_

"I miss them," Yunho whispers and the truth is scalding on his tongue. "My dad was my hero. I— I looked up to him. I was going to be amazing, I had so many dreams and — we lost money so I wasn't what he wanted me to be. I wasn't worth his time anymore. He doesn't — I never — I just want to mess around like a kid, make friends, play outside. I wanted to be someone normal for once and be selfish instead of working two jobs and helping my parents pay rent. I wanted to be a dancer but he didn't."

Lee Seunghyun doesn't say anything, but Yunho knows he's listening.

"They want so much from me,  _for me_ , but god, I don't want to be a lawyer for the rest of my life. I don't want to do that,  _I don't want to be a lawyer."_  Yunho curls into himself more, cleaving to Lee Seunghyun's side. The thought of it terrifies him, now that he's acknowledged it. The reality of it all. The future that's being paved in front of him. 

He doesn't want that. He doesn't. He doesn't. He doesn't.

"For the first time, I found something that I liked. I wanted to be dancerwith _their_  support. I wanted to show them I could be the best, I  _know_ I can be the best. But he doesn't believe in me — he never did. He didn't want me to try, he didn't want me to be anything. He's awful and mean and I  _should hate him."_ Yunho sobs.

(Yunho thinks of family, of love, of support, of dreams, of happiness. He wonders why it was so hard to get them.)

"So tell me Seunghyun... why don't I? Why do I still care so much? What should I do?"

 

***

 

There had been a time once, when Yunho wasn't as fucked up as he is now.

Yunho isn't blind, he knows he has issues, and he has never been the type of person to drown in denial.

Yunho is perfectly aware that normal nine-about-to-turn-ten year olds don't act like this. He looks at the classmates around him and they're all happy and carefree in a way that Yunho envies. 

They have everything: family that has the time to care about them, a home that they don't need to worry about losing, a childhood that doesn't consist of cooking and working and working and working. 

There had been a time once, where Yunho had that too.

Somewhere.

Someplace. 

Yunho knows he did; it's just that he can't seem to find it right now. That half-forgotten memory, that melody of laughter and precious collection of warm smiles on soft skin. 

If he closes his eyes, he can almost remember the way the sun hit their faces and how they had enough money to splurge on ice cream and time to build crumbling sandcastles that stretched along the beach.

Going to movies and eating expensive popcorn, singing to the songs on the radio and making fun of dad's taste in music. 

If he closes his eyes, Yunho can almost reach for them. That family of his, slipping through his fingers. 

 

***

 

This is  ~~Lee Seunghyun's~~  

This is Seungri's reply:

"You are the only one who decides how weak you are." he says softly. "No one can break you, not without your permission. Every time someone hurts you, it's just another reason to prove them wrong. What he says about you, what you take to heart; I know it's hard. I know it's unfair for you to be hurt by someone who should've supported you wholeheartedly. You deserve better than that." 

Yunho breathes, his exhale is shaky and the following inhale isn't any easier.

Seungri whispers to him, "It's not supposed to be the child's job to worry about their parents. You're  _allowed_  to be selfish Yunho. You're allowed to resent them for this, but that doesn't mean you have to stop loving them. It's possible to love people and still be angry with them."

"Do you think I could do it?" 

"Yunho-hyung, whatever you choose to do, you'll be great." Seungri says without hesitation. "There's no doubt about it."

Yunho opens his eyes. 

 

***

 

His parents takes the day off, pull him from school sit him down in their living room. They make an effort to apologize to him. 

His mom's work clothes are disheveled and her hair is loose, fallen from the tight hairdo it's usually in. She looks tired tired tired. 

Yunho sees his dad sitting on the couch chair, clothes not as disheveled nor does he look as tired, but the stress lines around his eyes betray him. His mouth is pressed in a firm, hard line but he's not angry and Yunho can tell he's trying to make an effort too. 

It doesn't fix anything but Yunho didn't expect it to be fixed right away either. Things like these take time.

Yunho tells them about giving up his dream of becoming a prosecutor, and instead of yelling at him, his dad just hands him an envelope full of money— for the dance tuition— and tells him to quit his other jobs while his mom hovers behind him with an encouraging smile. 

And maybe it's a start.

 

***

 

_"Never feel as if you have to forgive someone," Seungri says, more serious than Yunho's ever heard him before. " **Never**. If you don't want anything to become a prosecutor, that's fine, that's always been your choice, Yunho-hyung. You can choose. You decide what's best for you. Hate them or forgive them, it doesn't matter. Do what you want."_

_"I don't know what I want," Yunho says. He tips his head up to meet Seungri's gaze._

_"That's a lie hyung," Seungri whispers. "And you know it."_

 

***

 

"You know, I wasn't angry that I had to work," Yunho says. "Even though I was just nine, I wasn't angry about that; I wanted to, even. I wanted to help out too and at first, they were really guilty about it. I remember my mom apologizing to me and dad not being able to look me in the eye for weeks." 

"So what happened?" 

"It became expected for me to work. To help out, to give up most of my childhood while all my classmates were playing at arcades after school, I was stocking the shelves and running errands," Yunho replies. "I didn't mind, at first, because it was my decision, but then that changed too." 

Yunho breathes and focuses on the rhythm of Seungri's shoe tapping on the ground. How did it come to this; from Yunho avoiding Lee Seunghyun at all costs to pouring his heart out to him.

"I began felt trapped Seungri, there was this feeling in my head, that sinking feeling that this was my life now. And I realized, I didn't want that." Yunho smiles, humorless. "How do you even begin to voice that? My dad believes that I'm going to become a lawyer, and nothing will change his mind. He thinks dancing is just a phase. He wants so much for me. They both want so much for me and it's hard." 

Yunho has heard from his teachers, from his parents, from his classmates that he is smart. He's heard various compliments from his coworkers and his boss, all of them telling him that his future would be bright, bright, bright. 

But Yunho doesn't want his future to be bright. What he wants is simple, has known it ever since he walked into dance class all those years ago: he wants to be a dancer. 

"Does this make me selfish?" Yunho asks. 

Seungri smiles up at him, rueful. "Yes, but I can't throw any stones. Kettle and pot you know." 

Yunho laughs, and then, slowly, hesitantly, he begins to relax.

  

***

 

Lee Seunghyun is the world's most perfect trap.

One second you're just passing by, giving him nothing but a cursory glance and thinking  _cute_  and then next, you're following him everywhere. At first, to make sure the kid didn't get himself kidnapped or scammed because god knows that if he got himself killed or hurt,  _Yunho_  would be the one blamed. 

But two months later, Yunho's  _still_  following him around, only this time, it's to get ice cream together because it was hot and  _D_ _amn, do you have 500 won on you? Thanks Seungri._ Because suddenly it's not Lee Seunghyun anymore but  _Seungri_ and don't even  _try_  asking Yunho how  _that_  happened. 

Yunho's gotten used to spending his free time around him. 

He's gotten used to the absolute exhilaration he feels when he dances with him, to seeing him at school and doing the most ridiculous things with him and getting away with it, to hanging out with him after school and on the weekends.

He's become been privy to Seungri's tendency to attract trouble from the unlikeliest of places and the stupid, outlandish, and brilliant ways he wiggles himself out of them that usually had Yunho feeling a mix of exasperation, fondness, irritation, and amusement.

Yunho, despite all odds, had gotten used to being Seungri's friend.

He'd gotten used to idea of Seungri staying and it's scary how easily the boy slipped into his life.

He resented it at first, the way Seungri showed up at the studio and everything would instantly seem brighter and more interesting, the way Yunho automatically gravitated to him or how he inwardly perked up whenever Seungri would come straight to him, even the way they bickered and bantered about things that never made sense to anyone but them. 

He hated how anybody could have even that much power over him, unknowingly or not, and it only got worse when Yunho found himself actively seeking out Seungri's company outside of class.

But it wasn't one-sided.

And maybe that's why he doesn't mind it as much as he complained he did. Because sometimes, when he hasn't seen Seungri for a while, the younger boy would come find him and he's so, so happy to see Yunho, that it's almost embarrassing. 

"Are you happy Yunho-hyung?" Seungri asks. 

"No."

"Your ears are red." 

He slaps his hands over his ears. "..They're not."

"You're so honest Yunho-hyung," Seungri grins.

It takes three months before Yunho realizes he's slept in Seungri's room just as much as he's slept in his own bed. It takes him a few more minutes to realize he hasn't been this happy in a long time. 

The realization has Yunho stumbling over his feet and tripping, falling on his ass on the cold, kitchen floor of his house.

His little sister peers over the kitchen counter at him, as cool as a cat, and doesn't make any motion to help him up. She snorts.

 _Brat_. Yunho thinks belatedly, he was surrounded by impolite, ungrateful brats. 

"You know you love us." Oh, did he say that aloud again? "Yes." 

Ji-Hye is smug and insufferable. 

"Shut it," Yunho rolls his eyes and flicks her forehead. She yelps.

Yunho sighs. There goes his plans (his futile, pathetic plans) of avoiding Seungri once and for all.

Yunho's not as sad about it as he thought he would be. 

 

***

 

Hanwook is  _ecstatic_  to find out that Yunho and Seungri are finally getting along. Not even Yunho's refusals to join a dance troupe could deter his good mood. 

"We'll just wait until he's a bit older!" Hanwook had declared. It was almost admirable, how one-tracked his mind was. "For now, let's just focus on duo competitions!" 

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Yunho complains, but he's smiling despite himself, caught up in the thrill of a competition and the ambition shining in Seungri and Hanwook's eyes. "Aren't there rules against this?"

There aren't.

"We'll be amazing Yunho-hyung!" Seungri pumps his arms excitedly, two dimples dancing at the corners of his smile, sweet and foolish. He looks the farthest from the image of a Star Dancer one can get, especially one of his reputation. "We'll wow them all away!" 

And they do.

They win, they  **win** , they  _ **win**_.

Although Seungri is young and has only been five for four months, he is considered a rising star of the dance world, much to the disgruntlement of many of the senior sunbaes. 

He is cute with a very mature demeanor and advanced choreography and ideas, but his cheerful attitude endears himself to many. Yunho knows that the whole dance academy were secretly fans of the younger boy and were entirely too willing to rally to protect his honor from jealous competitors. 

It's gotten to the point where Yunho's pretty sure Seungri has an official fan club and Seungri wasn't helping at all with his flippant attitude towards it all. He even humors their antics.

Yunho had thought it was hilarious at first, especially since he was also gaining his own fair share of fans but when Hanwook had to intercept a grown man from embracing the younger boy after one of their contests and all Seungri had to say about it was "oh," Yunho began to worry.

Seungri's always been a little too cute, a little too kind, a little too soft-hearted for his own good. Seungri laughs at him and says he's a worry-wart but Yunho notices the looks he gives to Yunho's own fans, wary and protective; so really, Seungri is a hypocrite who doesn't know how to take care of himself.

He sleeps at Seungri's house more often than not, these days, especially so on days when his muscles are completely exhausted and Seungri's mom refuses to let him go home on an empty stomach which tend to lead to them offering to let him stay over. 

"Yunho-ah, you need more food." Seungri's mom had chastised. She scooped another bowl of rice for him, picking out the best pieces of meat and green onion kimchi for him. Yunho regretted, for a single moment, that he had told them his favorite foods if only because he was sure he'd gained at least three pounds that month. 

Seungri had avoided his pleading eyes and Seungri's dad only raised a helpless shrug in return.

He never got what people meant when they said pregnant women were scary, but now? Now he totally gets it. 

Yunho wakes up to the morning sunlight slipping through the windows of an unknown bedroom.

It takes him a minute to identify where he was, and when he remembers, looks down to the soft mattress beneath him and the boy curled up against the wall. Seungri mouth is open and  soft snores escape his mouth with every breath. Even in his sleep, the stubborn pout to Seungri's mouth is obvious. 

It makes Yunho smile, lopsidedly. 

For a long moment, Yunho simply lies there, his head is empty of all thoughts as he stared at the younger boy nestled in the corner of the mattress.

It was… surreal.

For so long he's held himself apart from everyone on some conscious level, except for Ji-Hye, but now another person has wriggled into his heart and made himself at home there. It's something Yunho would never have expected himself to allow to happen.

If someone had told him five months ago or even a few weeks ago, that he would be having sleepovers with a toddler six years younger than him and actually consider the boy to be a close friend, if not one of his closest friends, Yunho would've called them crazy.

But here he was and somehow, someway, Seungri managed to out-stubborn him and break through Yunho's walls.

Carefully, Yunho inches his arm from underneath Seungri's head, slowly easing himself upright. Seungri stirs, his eyelashes flutter like delicate butterfly wings, and opens his eyes blearily. "..-ung?" His pout is petulant and clearly displeased.

Yunho reaches over to ruffle the boy's hair that's already mussed up from sleep, and his frown grows deeper. 

Seungri's eyebrows furrow and dip, he gives an indignant look at the sunlight floating through his room and then at the clock which read 6:18, before glaring at Yunho. It's supremely ineffective with the pout still on his face.

"Go 'o sleep," Seungri slurs out and it's said with enough force for Yunho to recognize it as a command. Yunho rolls his eyes at the boy but doesn't argue because his muscles were still sore from last night and within minutes, they're both asleep again.

They don't hear the quiet  _click_ of a camera or smattering of giggles and grief-filled moans from outside their door. 

 

***

 

Seungri gets lost inside his mind sometimes. His eyes glaze over, shiny and unnaturally bright and so, so distant; as if he were seeing something that no one else could, something far off in the distance. Seungri can spend entire mornings like that, barely staying for a minute in the present, spending a whole week in the past, before babbling on and on about the future minutes later, as if nothing had happened.  

On those days, Yunho finds that Seungri likes it when Yunho curls his hand around the younger boy's wrist. Seungri tells him it helps him remember where he is, that Yunho was his very own anchor, a heavy weight that keeps him from floating away.  

He knows a lot about Seungri.

Seungri loves pandas, strawberries, the color blue, and loud music. He likes to dance and sing but is willing to dabble in any activity that catches his interest, even if it's not the kind of thing a toddler should be trying. 

He likes long hugs and little bits of affection, has soft hair and drinks way too much milk. 

He likes wearing absurdly comfy clothing and oversized sweaters, sometimes stealing Yunho's jackets when he's not looking, and has the strangest habit of disappearing despite being one of the loudest people Yunho knows.

He's optimistic and ridiculously charming, and while that's not a lie, Yunho also knows that below his innocent smile is a cunning person who frankly scares Yunho at times. 

But during these moments, when Seungri turns quiet and distant, Yunho feels like that he doesn't know much about him at all.

"What do you want to be when you grow up? What do you see?" Yunho ask, one night, when they're both too tired from practice to move and Yunho has lost the will to get up.

Seungri's made it his mission to learn how to braid his hair properly and this is the fifth attempt this night. He still mocks Yunho's totally epic mullet but Yunho knows that he secretly likes it, it's inevitable really. No one can resist the mullet.

Yunho's hair slips through Seungri's small fingers, he can hear the younger boy's breath hitch. 

There's a couple of seconds of silence that Yunho doesn't interrupt before Seungri finally speaks. His voice is achingly soft, weak, but his hands are a steady presence in Yunho's hair. "I'll tell you a story that starts with sunshine and a little boy who thought the stars were falling out of the sky..."

Seungri tells him a story of falling stars and fairies hiding beneath the clouds, of a little boy finding a map to happiness and a selfish dream. It's not everything, Yunho knows. Seungri's fingers are warm against his skin, he doesn't sound like he's lying but his eyes are far away, a million miles from here. 

One day, Yunho will ask again, and maybe then, Seungri will tell him the story of why his eyes look so dark and wet when he talks about golden crowns and brown eyes and the number five.

But until then, Yunho will accept this. 

 

***

 

"Hyung, why did you hate me so much?" Seungri asks with an expression that says he's doing this to upset someone. Most likely Yunho. Definitely Yunho. 

"I didn't  _hate_  you, it was a mild dislike, bordering on heavy," he replies and passes another piece of paper over. "Although it's nice to know that you recognized it. I thought you were just messing with me every time you acted like my insults were compliments." 

"Oh I was," Seungri assures him. He frowns at the paper before looking up. "The expressions on your face were  _golden_." His smile is sly and entirely too cheeky for his own good. 

Who taught this boy his manners? 

"Your dad spoils you too much," Yunho accuses. He's not wrong.

"My mom spoils  _you_  too much," Seungri immediately says back. He's not wrong either.

"So fucking annoying," Yunho says without any real heat, entirely too used to Seungri's ways so he knows that if he continued down this line, he would lose.

Seungri was tricky like that and Yunho has lost one too many arguments with the younger boy to deal with it anymore than he has to.

"Language," Seungri admonishes and Yunho rolls his eyes hard. Like Seungri wasn't used to it.

Yunho swears to anyone who asks, that he learned more insults and swear words during the year he met Seungri than his whole lifetime.

"You know me 'Ri, I'm prideful as  _fuck_. What else was I supposed to do when a four year old toddler comes rolling in and doing the things it took years for me to get? It was like a slap to the face; gloves had been thrown, shots were made, my honor was at stake — what the fuck were my parents gonna say?"

"That's stupid," Seungri says, dry amusement clear in his tone. Yunho still has no idea why people think Seungri's the innocent one. "Do we need to have a talk about self-confidence and healthy self-esteem?"

"Shut it," Yunho hisses quietly. "I'm ten years old, I'm allowed to be stupid." 

"That wasn't what you said last week," Seungri retorts. "You said that ten year olds have to be cool and s-"

At this point Yunho lunges and muffles the younger boy's mouth with his hand. Seungri's eyes crinkle like he's on the cusp of laughter before he opens his mouth and licks his hand.

No matter what Seungri says later, Yunho  _did not_ squeal like a girl. He didn't. Anyone who says otherwise was lying. 

"You've really got to fix this whole monologue thing," Seungri comments. Yunho chucks a paper ball at him. Seungri sticks his tongue out, he squints at the paper in his hands and groans.

"Yunho-hyung, how do you not know how to draw a circle?" Seungri complains. 

"It's hard, okay?" Yunho says seriously. The circle on Seungri's paper was small. "Now less talking, more drawing. And make it smaller."

Seungri grumbles and draws a different one. "I don't see why you have to have so many spins in this dance. Especially since you  _can't draw circles._ "

"Again, they're hard to draw!" Yunho defends. "Triangles are fine, squares are a bit harder, but circles confuse me." His third grade teacher tried explaining them to him once, using an analogy, but to this day, Yunho still doesn't understand what rabbits and holes have to do with shoelaces. Or circles. 

"Show me. They can't be that bad, just flick your wrist," Seungri demonstrates and sketches another perfect circle on the piece of paper. "See?"

Yunho follows his advice and does the same motion. He lights up. It doesn't look so bad this time!

Seungri squints. He looks up at Yunho and back at the drawing. Yunho waits in anticipation.

He doesn't say another word as he picks up different piece of paper and continues drawing.

 _"Yah!_ " Yunho hisses. "Say something about it."

Seungri turns his head. "...no."

_"Yah!"_

Later, when Hanwook tells them that they could've just told him their choreography idea rather than draw it out, Seungri, out of indignant fury and grief for his wrists, tackles Yunho to the ground and tries to strangle him. 

Again. Yunho has no idea why people think he's the innocent one.

 

***

 

Seungri is different lately, Yunho notes and studiously tries not worry.

There's a certain restlessness to him that wasn't there before. Well, Yunho corrects himself, not as obvious as before. Seungri has always had an anxious energy around him that clung to the tips of his fingers and the bend of his wrists, the kind that made his hands flutter in the air with inaction.

He doesn't look any different from the last time Yunho had last seen him, but there's a certain hunch to his shoulders like he’s expecting something to happen, a dimness in his eyes that turn them less flecked with gold and more of an swirly dark brown, like chocolate that's on the edge of melting.

His hands shake when Yunho holds them, and he keeps pressing his fingers to the center of his chest like he’s in pain, in the exact spot that Yunho knows is the space between his ribs and to his heart. 

"Hyung, where do you feel loneliness?" Seungri had asked him once. 

"What do you mean?" Yunho replied. 

"Here," Seungri pointed at his chest, just below his breastbone. "This is loneliness." Then again at his wrists; "Hope." The hollow of his throat; "Courage." The space between his ribs; "Want." His heart; "Anxiety." His ears; "Happiness."

_(Want and anxiety.)_

Yunho doesn't know what to do to take away that look in Seungri's eyes. He's not sure if there's something he c _an_ do. 

The last day before they leave the studio for summer, Seungri runs and lands right in his arms where Yunho catches him instantly, spins him without hesitation until Seungri's laughing and smiling up at him with white, white teeth and an unflinching happiness that steals Yunho's breath away. 

Seungri is shimmering with anticipation and Yunho is relieved. But for some reason, the moment Seungri leaves his embrace, Yunho feels as if he's lost him.

 

***

 

Seungri starts hanging out with him less. Yunho doesn't know why and it irritates him.

 _Seungri_  was the one who clung onto him, the one who would seek  _him_  out, not the other way around. But now Seungri can't even offer any explanation as to why they're hanging out less. 

Yunho could play this game again, he could dance around the topic and pretend not to know but Yunho remembers a time when people used to call him the most straightforward person in the world, so Yunho confronts him about it.

"There was a time long ago, where you'd make me sit beside your bathtub and talk to you because you felt lonely. And we'd talk until you finished taking your bath." Yunho says, his voice is shaky. His eyes burn. "You used to take  _really_  long baths." A laughs spills from his lips and it feels awkward,  _sounds_  awkward. Fuck, he feels like he's about to cry.

Seungri looks like he's about to cry too. 

"We used to talk about anything and everything. Even when I didn't want you to," Yunho says. "But now— now you won't talk to me at all. I can't get anything. Nothing from you. Do you realize that fucking hurts?" 

Seungri looks down. He won't meet his eyes. 

"Are you crying?" Yunho asks, hysterical. 

"Yes, I am. I'm selfish and mean and I hurt you," Seungri snaps. "Are you happy now?"

 _"Why would that make me happy?"_ Yunho cries. "Just tell me what I did!" So that he knows what to do. Yunho doesn't like it when he can't fix something. 

"You didn't do anything!" Seungri denies. "Why would you even think that?"

"Well clearly I did something!" Yunho insists, takes a step forward and wraps his hand around Seungri's wrist. "Or else you wouldn't be avoiding me."

"Yunho-hyung, you didn't _—_ "

 _"Seungri-ah—_ _"_ Yunho pleads.

Seungri bites his lip, his eyelashes flutter rapidly, and his face twists, visibly trying to keep his calm before he breaks down. "BUT YOU DIDN'T!!" He's hiccuping now, tiny little sobs suppressed underneath his breath.

He looks so young and every inch the five year old that he is. Yunho's heart hurts. 

"Yunho-hyung, what do you do.. when the thing getting the thing you want makes you selfish?" Seungri breathes. It's the first time he's acknowledged that something's wrong. "What do you do, if you know it'll hurt someone?" He looks sad, achingly sad and there's tension in his eyes. It thrums through his body and keeps him on edge. 

Seungri always looks as if he's on the verge of flying away and leaving. 

"Seungri," Yunho says, stops the younger boy and he turns to Yunho with a watery look. His eyebags are darker today and Yunho pulls him closer. "You asked me where I feel things once."

Yunho isn't the poetic type, he's not good with words and has always been called too straightforward. Yunho has never minded that, he prefers showing his emotions than talking about them, but for Seungri. 

For Seungri, Yunho finds that he's willing to try.

He points at his throat; "Here is anxiety." The bottom of his left rib; "Emptiness." His right rib; "Loneliness." His lungs; "Courage."  His veins; "Hope." And then _—_

Seungri looks at the finger pointed at him with wet eyes and a trembling mouth; "Happiness." 

His eyes crinkle and tears pool over and Seungri crumples to a close. If Yunho leans close enough, he can hear the mess of whispers spilling from his lips. 

_I'm sorry, I'm so selfish and I missed you too but I'm still so lonely and I can't help it. I think I saw— I **think I saw him**. Oh, I don't want that but maybe I do and I'm scared. I missed you. I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm selfish but can you forgive me? You don't have to of course. I'm so sorry. I'm so scared. I'm so, so—_

"Idiot," Yunho murmurs, there's a sob caught in his throat and  _shit_. He hates crying. He's never cried this much before, look at what Seungri did to him. "Of course I forgive you. You're my friend." 

Yunho's little sister finds them like that a few minutes later, Seungri sobbing into the cotton of his shirt and Yunho patting his head awkwardly, trying to stop his own sniffles. 

"Ooooh," Ji-Hye deadpans. "You made a four year old cryyyy."

"Shut up!" Yunho defends. "He's five now."

"Like that's any better oppa," she replies airily. "By the way you need better retorts, that one's gotten pretty stale."

Seungri giggles wetly, it's quiet but genuine and makes Yunho smile. "Noona's right you know." Yunho doesn't know when the two bonded but he'd be lying if he wasn't worried.

Yunho huffs, mock offended, and clips the younger boy's nose. "Shush." 

"That's not any better you know."

_"Ji-Hye."_

 

***

 

Seungri is soft. Yunho had always thought of softness as a weakness before he met the younger boy. 

"You're strong," Yunho said, and he remembered hearing Seungri laugh. He'd sounded wistful, even then. 

"I'm not," Seungri had said back. "I just run and I run and I run until all my problems go away."

But he's wrong, Yunho remembered thinking. Because Seungri taught him that sometimes being soft was a good thing. He took Yunho by his hands and pulled him into the light, kicking and screaming, with steadfast determination.

Seungri taught Yunho that sometimes what it takes to survive the drop, is being gentle enough to not snap against the ground. 

"I'm really not," Seungri repeated with a smile, and there was something tired in his eyes, like he knew something Yunho did not, and Yunho had felt _—_ he'd felt that if he didn't say anything, he'd never be able to say it again.

"You're strong," Yunho repeated. "Stronger than you think you are." 

Yunho had wondered if Seungri believed him at all that day. 

 

***

 

Seungri pulls him aside, after class. He looks tired, restless with nervous energy. 

"I'm going to be busier," Seungri says, his eyes are red. "I'm sorry."  _I'll be leaving more often._

Yunho isn't surprised. He's seen this coming. (That doesn't mean it didn't sting though.)

"Okay then," Yunho says. "But we'll still hang out sometime." He phrases it as a statement and not a question and Seungri smiles at him, full of relief.

Yunho hopes he'll be happy, Seungri deserved that much at least. 

 

***

 

Seungri walks in with a smile that's so bright, it was like seeing a flower blooming. He's pulling on someone's arm and Yunho sits up from where he's lying on the floor. Seungri perks up at the sight of him, waves, and promptly walks into the door.

Seungri laughs it off, rubs the back of his head and acts as if nothing had happened. There is an aura of 'don't say anything, didn't see anything' over his head and Yunho's lips lift in amusement. 

He doesn't understand how Seungri can complete some of the most complicated dance moves without breaking a sweat, but then turn around and become one of the clumsiest people Yunho's ever met. 

"Seungri, is your head okay?" Yunho reaches to touch the younger boy's head but stops. The other boy steps in front of him and pats Seungri's head. 

Yunho's hand is left hovering in the air awkwardly.

"I'm fine hyung," Seungri glances at the boy and back at Yunho. Whenever Seungri’s confused, his mouth forms a pout, and he gets this wrinkle between his eyebrows that dip until there's a tiny crease in his forehead. It's very endearing. 

Apparently he isn't the only one to think so either because the other boy smiles at Seungri. "Seungri-ah, don't frown, you'll get wrinkles. Are you okay?"

"I already said I'm fine hyung-ah." Seungri grins sweetly. The other boy looks at Seungri like a dog does a cat and Yunho doesn't know why but he wants to take a step back. 

It's an awfully familiar feeling.

"Aren’t you wondering why he's here?" Seungri asks Yunho. "Or who he is?"

"No." Yunho replies and blinks away from the other boy's startling gaze, intense and brown. "I've learned that the best way to deal with this—" he gestures towards Seungri's body "—is by accepting whatever comes my way."

Seungri smiles mischievously, eyes lighting up with cat-like slyness and Yunho wants to squish his cheeks together. "That's not fair Yunho-hyung! You make me sound like a bad influence!"

"You  _are_  a bad influence."

"Says the one who-"

"Seungri-ah," the other boy cuts in unexpectedly and Yunho's left unbalanced but Seungri seems used to it.

The boy smiles and it's a nice smile, Yunho thinks idly. "Introduce us?" His voice tilts up like he's curious but there's a look in his eye, a little sharp and a little calculating when he looks at Yunho, which he doesn't get in the least. At least not until the boy laces his fingers together with Seungri because then it's  _oh—_

There's a voice inside his head that sounds suspiciously like his sister gleefully mocking him that out of  _all the things_ he could've been dragged into, it was a love triangle between a five-year-old and an eight-year-old. 

Yunho shakes his head free from those thoughts, or at least, he tries to but it's a lot harder now not to notice how close the two were standing.

"This is Yunho-hyung. He's ten and one of the best dancers here," Seungri says. "And this is Jiyong-hyung, he's eight." Yunho looks at him. He's smiling, softly. He looks happy. "We'll become best of friends!" 

"Nice to meet you, Yunho-hyung." Kwon Jiyong gives him a very polite smile; his fingers are still intertwined with Seungri's and his eyes are sharp. "I hope we get along."

Yunho smiles back too, full of teeth. "Same." 

This defines their relationship for the next two years.

 

***

 

Here's the thing about Kwon Jiyong: he's scary.

If Seungri was a force of nature, then Kwon Jiyong was mother nature Herself. He's intense and encompassing in a way that makes Yunho want to pull Seungri aside and protect him from the natural disaster that is Kwon Jiyong.

Kwon Jiyong looks at Seungri like he wants to consume him whole and never let him go. Kwon Jiyong is all sharp edges and he's built like a pissed-off coiled snake, bared jaws in the darkness of a hungry night. The moment Yunho takes his eyes off of him is the moment he'll strike, as painful as hornet sting, or maybe just a silver knife. 

Kwon Jiyong is scary and Yunho can't quite figure out why no one else sees this.

No one sees past his gummy smiles and squinting eyes where thrumming energy rests beneath his skin, threatening to jump out at any moment; Yunho holds back the urge to flinch every time he comes near.

Kwon Jiyong is scary and everything he wants to keep Seungri away from. 

But here's the thing about Seungri that people don't remember: he's scary too.

Seungri captures hearts as easily as breathing, with a just simple tilt of his head or a smile, but lets them go just as easily; there's no loss in his eyes when he leaves. He's a snowflake falling from the sky, scraping across his fingertips, cold, but faint. A lingering chill. 

Only a fool would choose not to be afraid of Lee Seungri but like always, it seemed like no one else but Yunho had picked up on it. Maybe Jiyong, but that kid was blind by other things than stupidity, although that had a hand in it.

That side of Seungri wasn't really a side of his personality, but it was always present, that ruthless pragmatism that cut everything into pieces. Hidden inside his eccentricity and his youth, there would only be flashes of it here and there but it was enough for one to understand that he was different. 

Seungri talks with an airy tilt in his voice; aloof enough that, at times, Yunho gets scared that he'll float off into space and leave them all behind one day. (Yunho isn't enough to keep him grounded and this will always burn at his nerves.)

Seungri has this way of making you seem like the center of the universe. Like every scrap of attention he gave you was a divine gift that you might never receive again and Kwon Jiyong shared that with him.

The two of them had a weight around them that practically demanded,  _expected_  everyone to keep up with them and Yunho...

Yunho has never liked failing anyone's expectations.

 

*** 

_They revolve around each other like colliding planets and Yunho—_

_Yunho is nothing more than their forgotten moon, watching and observing and so, so far away. Unable to reach him._

 

***

 

(The reason why he accepted Kwon Jiyong in less than half the time it took him to accept Lee Seunghyun:

_"Hey Seungri. He's the boy who made you cry wasn't he?" Yunho asks, into the silence of his room. Behind his eyelids, he sees the boy with his bright eyes and fingers tangled together with Seungri's. "Are you still scared of him?"_

_Behind his eyelids, he sees Seungri happy, and something inside him, that green little monster buried deep inside his heart, settles.)_

Yunho sighs. He's too soft.

"Oii, Yunho-hyung," Jiyong calls, effectively breaking him from his thoughts. The younger boy is sitting at a nearby bench. His eyebrows are low on his forehead, Yunho notes with devilish amusement. He's in a bad mood. He must've been hoping Yunho wouldn't show up. "We're right here."

Seungri is sitting beside Jiyong, waving. 

Yunho feels the corner of his lip tilt up. "That's the welcome you give your precious hyung? Even though I brought you a snack from your favorite cafe?" 

Seungri's face brightens and he makes a 'give me' motion at Yunho who holds the bag back and waggles a finger in front of him. "Ah, ah, ah, what do you say?"

"Yunho-hyung!" Seungri implores, widening his eyes as if it made himself appear even cuter. It does. The little shit knows exactly what he's doing. "Pleeeeeease?" 

Jiyong's eyebrows twitch.

Yunho's smirk widens.

"You're the best, hyung!" Seungri cheers, biting into the soft skin of the sweet red bean dumpling. He gives Jiyong expectant eyes when the older boy doesn't say anything and predictably, the boy melts. (Not that Yunho could blame him, Seungri was tricky like that.)

Yunho could practically  _taste_  his frustration in Jiyong's quiet little, 'Thank you.' He knows he shouldn't be enjoying this so much but he also knows that Jiyong is the type to repay any and all slights tenfold so Yunho's fresh outta guilt at the moment.

"Hyung," Yunho corrects him, because he loves digging his own grave. "Thank you hyung."

Jiyong hesitates, just long enough for Seungri to give him a concerned glance, shoots him a glare, before saying slowly, painfully. "Thank you  _hyung_."

"You're welcome little Jiyongie," Yunho replies with unholy glee. If looks could set someone on fire, Yunho would be ashes by now. 

And again, Yunho knows he shouldn't tease Jiyong so much. He's not a bad kid, plenty polite with his elders and he's talented to boot, but it was just so  _easy_  to irritate the younger boy.  _Oh no._  That's entirely Seungri's way of thinking.

Seungri's infected him and from the look in Seungri's eyes, he knows it too. 

"Let's go hyung, we're wasting daylight!" Seungri sweeps his hand towards the park. 

Later, after Jiyong is sent home because his house was nearest to the park _—_ and Yunho really got a kick out of seeing the kid shoot him hissy looks _—_ Seungri holds his hand. 

It's tiny and warm inside Yunho's own. Seungri turned five two weeks ago.

"Yunho-hyung, you're going to meet someone soon." Seungri says. "They'll be very important to you, so important that you'll forget about me one day." The way he delivers the words isn't just a statement.

He says it as if it was a reality, as sure as the sun would rise and fall, and as usual, Yunho's caught off guard by his intensity. 

"But that's impossible," Yunho replies, and his voice sounds like it's a million miles away. Feels like cotton in his mouth and there's not enough air in his lungs. "You're too memorable to forget."

Seungri's eyes twinkle with impossible light and there was an excitement in his voice making it impossible for Yunho to not listen. Sincerity, confidence, determination, and maybe a little amusement mixed in there. "You'll meet them soon, Yunho-hyung. Just a little longer."

And Yunho, looking at those brown, brown eyes with thousands of tiny little stars swirling inside them, believes him. 

 

***

 

The reason why it takes Yunho less time to accept Jiyong:

He looks at Seungri like he could find the coordinates to happiness in the shape of his eyes and his way home in the light of his smile.

And Yunho  _understands_.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ppretty sadd bois irl and yes,, their birthdays happened off screen,, shhhhhhhh,,
> 
> deleted scene:
> 
> reason why seungri doesn't call yunho his sunbae 
> 
> "Yunho-sunbaenim what are you doing?" Lee Seunghyun's loud, cheery voice that should be a crime for being so happy in the morning chirps at him. "Yunho-sunbaenim?"
> 
> "Hyung," Yunho cuts in gruffly. "Just call me hyung." Hearing Lee Seunghyun call his sunbaenim rankled at his nerves, makes him irritated. 
> 
> Lee Seunghyun's eyes widen a little, the only sign of (real) surprise Yunho's ever seen on his face before. He smiles then, unreasonably happy. "Okay then Yunho-hyung!" 
> 
> Ugh.
> 
> How annoying.
> 
> (Yunho ignores the way his ears heat up.)


	6. this is how he clings on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jiyong catches sm's attention.

 

**chapter six**

 

"I'm sorry I won't be there for your birthday." Jiyong curls his fingers around the handle of Seungri's birthday gift, because he can see Seungri's eyes lingering on the bag curiously, and tries not to smile. 

"It's alright, I won't be alone," Seungri says cheerfully, and reaches over to pat his hand. 

"Yeah, I'll be with him," Yunho says with obvious delight. He leans over Seungri's head, rests a lazy arm on the younger boy's head, and drawls at him. "So don't worry your little head over it Jiyong." 

Jiyong wants to kick at Yunho's knees to stop the older boy from subtly bragging about his height. He'd gotten a sudden growth spurt over his past few months and was abnormally tall for a ten year old; Yunho had wasted no time lording it over them.

"Bae-An's going on a vacation too," Seungri continues on, oblivious to the tension between the two boy. "Maybe you'll see her!"

Jiyong hopes not, he's not very fond of her. She reminded him too much of Chan-Hee for Jiyong to let her be alone with Seungri for long. He's not fond of anyone who hangs around Seungri to be perfectly honest.

He can feel Yunho's gaze from beneath his mitten hat, a matching one to Jiyong's that Seungri had made for both of them and they'd both agreed to put aside their differences to make the little boy happy. Yunho's eyes were knowing.

Jiyong scowls at him. Feels his ears flush and pulls his hat lower. 

"Isn't she going to Japan?" Yunho says. "To visit her grandparents I think." 

"Oh," Seungri says, his eyes are distant - blurry and Yunho pokes his head. Seungri blinks in surprise, and seems to shake away his thoughts, before he grins at the older boy. "I forgot!" He says it in a sheepish tone, but it's a little more amused than embarrassed but then again, Seungri never seemed to be embarrassed by anything, not if he could help it. 

Jiyong knows it's because Seungri is too honest. Jiyong knows that Yunho thinks Seungri likes to hide everything he feels, and he's right on some levels, but the only reason Seungri does that is because everything he thinks about, everything he feels is written all over his face. It's there for anyone to see if they knew how to look, it's in the shine of his eyes and the curve of his mouth; Jiyong can see Seungri's heart everytime he looks at him and he likes that. 

Even if it makes Seungri feel vulnerable and nervous. Jiyong likes that too. 

"So what's with the bag?" Yunho says and it's clear to Jiyong that the older boy doesn't care too much, that the only reason he said something was to pressure him from backing out. Jiyong scoffs inwardly, as if he would. 

Seungri's eyes lit up like starry skies. "My present? What's inside?"

His hands shake a little and maybe, just maybe, he's a little embarrassed, especially when Yunho coos at the less-than-perfect-wrapping. "It's not much." He does his best to keep his voice casual, tugging a hand through his hair. The snow drifted down in gentle flakes, muffling the world around them as if no one else but the two of them existed. "Don't open it until your birthday."

Seungri frowns. 

 

***

 

"Bye hyung-ah! Make sure to call me!" Seungri waves his hands and Jiyong leans as far as he's able to from the window and doesn't lean back until Seungri's figure is little more than a tiny speck in the distance. Buried with millions and thousands of snowflakes. 

 

***

 

It's at least fifteen below, the snow is falling thicker than ever, and bullets are whizzing through the air as the hunters on their tail close in around them. The only bright side to this cat-and-mouse situation is the fact that both parties are hampered by the knee-deep snow coating the forest floor. 

Jiyong wakes up gradually, and blinks, slow. The sky is still pitch black, and he tries to check the hotel clock without moving his head or any appendages. He can almost make it out from the corner of his eye 6:28. 

Jiyong's never woken up this early before. Not out of his own violation at least.

 

***

 

A flyer.

 

SM ENTERTAINMENT AMATEUR DANCE COMPETITION [SPECIAL GUEST JUDGE]

DATE: 12/18/96

LOCATION: RECREATIONAL CENTER at 2PM

RULES: AGES 8-12

MUST HAVE ADULT PERMISSION 

 

 

***

 

jiyong is at a dance competition. he doesn't know why he's at a dance competition but he has a feeling that seungri has something to do with it and it was too late to do anything about it now.

(this is a lie. he  _absolutely_ knows why he's in a dance competition. he just doesn't want to admit it.)

jiyong is in a dance competition and he  _has_ to win because seungri was somewhere at home watching him because he was too young to compete and made jiyong promise that he would try. 

jiyong looks around the room, full of other boys his age and a voice that sounds suspiciously like seungri's tells him to go make some friends. jiyong huffs at that, mumbling words that would have his mom pulling his ear, as he gathered up his courage to talk to someone.

there were other kids in the room, running around and dancing about, minding their own business but there was one person sitting on the floor. he was boy around jiyong's age, dressed in baggy pants with headphones around his neck and a book in his lap. jiyong walked up to him, reaching out his right hand to him. "hi," he said with a bright smile. "my name is kwon jiyong. what’s yours?"

and this. this is where things start to change.

if jiyong had to pinpoint the exact moment where his life really started, it would be here. 

he doesn't remember the name the boy gave him. he doesn't remember what his face looked like or what his sounded like. he doesn't even remember what happened after the boy finished talking. all that jiyong remembered is this:

a sharp voice saying, "what are you? do you think it's funny? that this is a joke?"

all he remembers is this:

him falling on the ground and so many people watching him.

all he remembers is this:

whispers and cruel, cruel eyes.

all he remembers is this:

something eating him from inside his chest.

 

***

 

"hyung-ah?" seungri's voice asks worriedly, "are you ok?" 

jiyong's hands are shaking. he's in the bathroom and he can't can't can't-

"hyung-ah? jiyong-hyung!"  

"seungri-ah," he whispers miserably. "i messed up. i'm sorry. im so so sorry."

jiyong can hear rustling on the other side of the phone and a small little sigh come from seungri's mouth. "hyung-ah, that's ok. i'm not sad, well i guess i am. but not because you fell! i'm sad because _you're_ sad. why are you sad hyung-ah?"

jiyong wants to say it. he wants to tell him about the boy and his mean words. about his smirk. about the whispers and the eyes surrounding him but his words dry up in his throat and jiyong  _can't. (jiyong wants to scream.)_

**"would contestant 56 come to the stage. contestant 56 please come to the stage."**

jiyong feels a tightening in his chest and he clenches the phone tighter. 

"hyung-ah? was that the announcer?"

jiyong hums in affirmation, his breath quickens as he thinks of eyes eyes eyes looking and judging and- "what do i do seungri-ah."

seungri is quiet for a moment before-

 _"...take a moment to think of just..."_ seungri sings gently, _"..flexibility, love, and trust... and oh, you're losing sight... you're losing touch..."_

oh. he knows this song. he remembers this song. jiyong feels his eyes burn. his heart swells up and he wants to hug seungri at that moment. 

 _"... all these little things seem to matter so much... that i could lose you.."_ seungri's voice wavers a little, _"that i might lose you..."_

jiyong wants seungri to be there with him _so_ _much_ at that moment. he wants to see seungri.

_"but it's ok, it's ok, it's ok. it was just a thought, just a thought, just a thought, just a thought."_

jiyong mouths the words softly. 

 _"i'm_ _here. i'm_ _here. i'm_ _here."_ seungri sings soothingly to him.

and slowly, quietly, jiyong sings back. _"..take a moment to think of just think of.. flexibility, love and trust..."_

 _"flexibility, love, and trust.."_ seungri laughs softly, "jiyong-hyung is the best. i know he is. i don't know why he's sad and i really don't like it when he's sad but i know he'll get better because jiyong-hyung is strong. he'll get past this."

something inside jiyong loosens at that and he feels a sob building up in his throat.

"you promise?" jiyong asks wetly.

there's a soft pause and jiyong feels his heart beating faster and his chest feels like it's constricting before-

"uhm! i promise jiyong-hyung! now go out there and have  _fun_ anddon't worry about anything else ok? you'll be fine."

\- jiyong feels like he can breathe again.

 

***

 

seungri is right as always.

he goes out onto the stage, ignores the whispers and eyes as best as he can. he closes his eyes, thinks of seungri, thinks of music and butterflies and a voice like soft cotton candy.

he takes in a deep breath, clenches his hands, relaxes his shoulders, and when the music starts... he  _dances._

he dances like there's no one else in the room. like there's only him and the lights and seungri, watching him from behind a screen. 

(jiyong ends up catching the eye of sm entertainment's ceo.

jiyong ends up winning the competition even with his rough start.

jiyong ends up with a fire in his soul that might eat him up if he's not careful enough.

jiyong ends up with cruel eyes and judging whispers at his back.

jiyong ends up with a card that burns in his pocket and a question that rings in his ears.

jiyong ends up going home to an armful of giggles and wide, hazel eyes that make him so, so happy.

jiyong ends up,

jiyong ends,

jiyong,)

-o.o.o-  

 

 

 

 

> in another life, jiyong doesn't hear those reassurances. he doesn't have a seungri who says he's perfect the way he is. all he has is himself and his tears and bitten-down bloody nails. all he has is his determination and sharp edges that he snaps off and uses to claw forward. all he has are cruel eyes and judging whispers that demand so much of him until everything he is is laid bare and raw.
> 
> in another life, jiyong loses something more that day. 
> 
> in another life, jiyong ends up burning and burning and burning until he's nothing but ash and embers.
> 
> in another life.

-o.o.o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: here comes a thought


	7. this is how they stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seungri and jiyong have a schedule and um, seungri's five. the boy can't count lmao ;u;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter five was too longg,,,, i'm tired,,,so,,aaaaaaaaa,, reuploading on aff is troublesome too,, both versions might have slight differences but they shouldn't matter too much,,

 

**chapter eight**

 

 

Every day starts like this:

Seungri wakes up and he sings to the birds outside. He helps his mom cook and pouts at his dad laughing at his antics. He watches TV and listens to music. humming out lyrics and melodies that were stuck in his head and writing them down before going to school. he makes new friends everyday; joining every club that he can.

He learns how to write, he learns how to talk. He learns how to play the violin, the piano, the drums. He learns how to draw. How to run and jump and swim.

He learns and learns and learns until it's time to go home. 

He kisses his mom and dad on the cheek, grabbing a snack before he goes to singing practice, and shows his book to his teacher before begging to use the instruments. He sings and sings until he's out of breath and his heart feels full. He goes home, kisses his mom and dad on the cheek, takes a nap before going to dance practice.

He dances and dances until the whole world starts to spin and the sky turns dark and he has to go home.

He goes home and takes a bath and has dinner with his parents. he hums a little lullaby to the crickets before going to sleep. he wakes up, starting the day all over again.

When Seungri meets Jiyong, his days change a little but not by much. 

He wakes up and sings to the birds outside. he helps his mom cook and talks to a sleepy Jiyong on the phone. He watches TV and listens to music; humming out lyrics and melodies to sing with Jiyong later. He goes to school, playing with his friends and learning new things. running away when clubs try to get him to rejoin.

He goes to singing practice, sings and sings until Jiyong pops by to pick him up where they'll sing together on the way to dancing class. they'll dance and sing and talk until the world seems to spin around them before one of their parents pick them up or one of them collapses on the other. 

They'll get a snack in the car, maybe fall asleep on the way home. Maybe go to each other's houses and writing some more until it's dark and they end up having sleepovers because it was too dark for the other to leave now. 

Sometimes their days would change because something caught Seungri's eye and he wanted to try it out; because he wanted to try something different. Sometimes he'd succeed in dragging Jiyong with him. Sometimes he didn't but that was ok because Jiyong would still wait for him to finish. 

Sometimes Jiyong wouldn't want to dance anymore. Sometimes he'd want to scream; to cry; to be distracted. On those days Seungri would drag him to the park again and stay there. Seungri would let him cry and sing his heart out until he finally falls asleep in his arms.

Sometimes and maybes and always. 

 

***

 

"Seungri-ah, I'm going to be a trainee," Jiyong announces. "They asked me to sign with them."

Seungri isn't surprised. He could faintly remember something like this happening before.

Sometimes it was SM Entertainment. Other times it was YG Entertainment. Sometimes it was both and neither of them. Sometimes sometimes sometimes. 

Even in another life, Seungri is the one chasing after Jiyong. His fingers clench on gravel. _He needs to work harder._

"Seungri-ah?" Jiyong's finger touches his nose teasingly which makes them both giggle. 

"Hyung-ah," Seungri whines, captures his finger between his small hands. 

Jiyong grins at him admonishingly, curling his fingers around his. "You weren't paying attention again!"

Seungri huffs, "Yes I was!" he pouts "You're going to be a trainee! What company?"

"Which company," Jiyong corrects him. He bites his lip in thought. "I think it was.. SM Enter-tain-ment? Yeah, SM Entertainment."

Seungri obligingly _oohs_ and _awws_ , hiding a grin when Jiyong gains an indignant expression at his lack of enthusiasm. 

"Seungri-ah! This is serious _, I_ 'm going to- going to have to," Jiyong's lips wobbled. "H-have to see you less..."

Seungri tilts his head to the left, "Why?"

Jiyong squeezes his fingers tightly around Seungri's. "Because! I'm going to have to practice more."

"But I practice too," Seungri says cheekily.

Jiyong jumped off the wall and lands with a soft  _thump._ "That's different!"

"No it's not," Seungri retorts. "I go to singing practice, and dancing practice, and practice, and, and-"

Jiyong scowls at him. "Yeah but this is professional. T _he real deal_. We _already_ don't see each other a lot 'cause of school and now..."

 

 

> "Seungri-ah," he says. "Seungri-ah, we won't be able to see each other anymore."
> 
> "Oh." Seungri replies, it's all he can say after all.
> 
> "Seungri-ah," he says. "We can still keep in touch." He promises but all Seungri can hear is goodbye. 

 

Seungri kicks his legs idly, looking down at Jiyong as he put his hands on his hips and sent him a "serious" look that said _you are being silly hyung and I'm not going to listen to silly hyungs_ and implores, "Enough about that Jiyong-hyung! I have a new song and you hafta tell me what you think!"

Jiyong sighs, and holds a hand up to Seungri who grins in delight as he spots a small smile on his lips. he grabs the offered hand and jumps down, laughing as he almost toppled Jiyong over. Seungri tangled their fingers together before smiling up at Jiyong who smiles back helplessly.

  

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> deleted scene: 
> 
> "Mama, this is Jiyong-hyung. He's two years older than me!" Seungri says cheerfully and holds up eight fingers and Jiyong thinks he's adorable.
> 
> Jiyong puts his hands on his stomach, bows, and speaks politely. "Hello ma'am, I am Kwon Jiyong. Thank you for welcoming me." Jiyong doesn't like the way his words sound, stilted and unused to speaking, but it makes sense - Jiyong hasn't been over to a friend's house in a long, long time.
> 
> He's more nervous than he's ever been. He's never been this nervous in front of a camera, but then again, Jiyong has never been afraid of people looking at him.
> 
> "My, is this the friend you've been telling me about Seunghyun-ah?" Seungri's mom seems nice though, and she laughs. "Thank you for taking care of my little panda, Jiyong." 
> 
> (She calls him Seunghyun.)
> 
> "You're welcome ma'am." Jiyong smiles charmingly at her, the same smile he uses that moms and grandmas seemed to adore where his cheeks are all bunched up and gums were showing. 
> 
> Seungri grins at them before his eyes brighten. "Oh! Let me get my book, you have to see. Stay here!" he pleads imploringly and runs off before Jiyong or his mom could say anything.
> 
> Jiyong fidgets slightly and peeks up at her, she smiles at him.
> 
> "Have some snacks dear, don't be polite about it ok?"
> 
> Jiyong thanks her, taking a panda-shaped chocolate chip cookie and chewing on it. he closes his eyes in pleasure at the taste. "It's really good."
> 
> Seungri's mom grins, "It's Seunghyun's favorite, he's absolutely enamored with pandas." Seungri really did love pandas. To the point where, Jiyong is sure, he'd be willing to live as a panda if it hadn't meant no waffles.
> 
> "What does Seungri like?"
> 
> She hums. Cups a hand to her face. "That's a tough question. I guess the answer would be everything."
> 
> "Everything?" 
> 
> "My little Hyunnie loves to learn and do everything at least once. Why, he has so many hobbies that he drops and joins, I can hardly keep us with them anymore," she laughs. "But if I had to guess which hobby is his favorite, it would be dancing and singing."
> 
> "Seungri said he was a fan of Little Roora," Jiyong offers.
> 
> Her smile wanes, takes on a sad edge that makes Jiyong fidget. "Ah.. Little Roora was his favorite group, he didn't take to Roora with the same enthusiasm but Little Roora? - he used to always listen to them on the radio and watch their dances everyday. I remember him singing along to the TV set when he was just three." She pinches her fingers to show how tiny he was. "It was adorable but when they disbanded, he cried."
> 
> Jiyong's face feels hot; like really, really hot. He can feel a wobbly smile forming on his face, tugging at the edges of his mouth, and he tries to stop it but it doesn't work.
> 
> Seungri's mom peers down at his face curiously, "In fact, you look an awful lot like that boy who was in the band. What was his name again? Ju- Ji?"
> 
> "It was Jiyong, mom!" Seungri cheers loudly, holding his book above his head like it was a precious trophy. "Kwon Jiyong!"
> 
> Her eyes widen and she glances back at him. Jiyong smiles sheepishly.


	8. this is how he sees him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what is seungri to jiyong? he is so many things and jiyong will look back on these days and make a song out of these memories. he'll write and write before he hides them close to his heart. (because they're for his eyes only.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tired tired tired. plot will continue soon!!

 

**chapter seven**

 

What is Seungri to Jiyong?

 

***

 

Seungri is a tempest. He's explosive and spontaneous, crackling with lightning that can be felt by everyone around him. A whirlwind of energy in perpetual motion, always looking as if he was on the verge of flight.

He's a force of nature and it shows in every movement he does, breathtaking when he sings and easily playing the crowd and the people around him with a simple smile or perfect hum.

He draws out laughs and screams from the strangest of strangers and makes them smile as like they've never done it before. he's made of determination and will power.

He's the eye of the storm who drags Jiyong into the rain just because and Jiyong follows him, absolutely enthralled.

 

***

 

Seungri is motion. he loves to move his feet tap tap tap, thumping out rhythms to songs that Jiyong is sure he'll forget in an hour or so if he doesn't write it down and his fingers are always covered ink and color despite his mom's best efforts. They tap a nonsensical rhythm on his knees and Jiyong always finds himself reaching over to play with them.

Seungri lets him as he silently mouths lyrics that pop into his mind, singing them in various tunes with Jiyong until he can scribble them on a piece of paper. Jiyong's pockets are always stuffed with random scraps of paper these days: sticky notes, tissues, corners torn off of homework, anything they can get their hands on with childish scribbles over them.

Seungri loves to move. He's pulling Jiyong into random dances and silly wiggles in the middle of streets; waxing poems and lyrics to strangers and having them play along with him.

He loves to improvise, to run and laugh as loud as he can, as if thriving on the attention he got. Seungri loves to live as if it's the only thing that matters was the present.

It leaves Jiyong breathless.

 

***

 

Seungri is poetry. He smiles like he has a secret; little twinkles in his eyes that light up as he murmurs almost-profound words with a certainty that people couldn't help but believe him.

He weaves words and stories like they're part of a song, a little lilt in his voice that make him sound so ethereal. He has knowing eyes that seem so far away and so so old, strange on his young face that disappears when Jiyong taps him, and when he asks him what he was thinking about, Seungri would smile wistfully before changing the subject.

Sometimes Seungri is still, so still that it surprises Jiyong each time he sees it happen. holding everything with a precision and delicate pinch, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and eyes wide in attention.

Sometimes Jiyong would tease him, watch him huff in indignation and utterly fail at his task. Other times jiyong likes to watch him. watch his slow movements that seem oh-so-mesmerizing and see what comes out of it.

 

***

 

Seungri is a star. He pulls others into his orbit so easily, making friends and admirers wherever he went. 

Some people were just born to perform on the stage. Some people were just the type of people who others would go crazy and possessive over. Some people should be carefully held in your palms, guarded, hidden so that no one else can see.

Seungri is made of starshine and moondust. He has eyes that shine with a million different cosmos and a voice that was so high and so thin, it was dizzying. He was bigger than life, bigger than anyone on earth.

Sometimes it felt like if Jiyong didn't hold onto him, he'd float off into space and leave him behind.

Seungri wants to hug the sky one day and Jiyong thinks that one day he will. 

 

***

 

Seungri is sunshine. He is warmth and comfort in his quiet moments. soft and warm when they lay together after exhaustion seeps into their bones and yawns are abundant. Seungri is soft whispers and quiet laughter. He is white blankets and dark skies, sweet lullabies and childish hugs. 

When Jiyong wakes in the morning, still sluggish with sleep, the first thing that greets him is Seungri's warm, warm voice and if he's lucky, it's because Seungri stayed over and he gets to see his bright smiles too. 

Jiyong wouldn't say anything more than a mumbled good morning and some grunts where he'd let Seungri's chatter wash over him Seungri wouldn't mind because he has more than enough energy for the both of them. 

 

***

 

Seungri is glory and triumph and life all in one. 

Seungri walks like he doesn't care what other people think. even when he thrives on attention and excitement, he's untouchable, in a way. There's an aura around him, something that marks him out as different. As someone to watch out for. 

And when he sings, it's like something about him changes, knocking Jiyong back into a stutter, rattles his teeth,  _wrenches_  at his soul. 

Seungri is glorious and vibrant with life. blooming in each and every moment. he treats life as a challenge, as a dare almost. He does anything and everything and does it until he wins. 

He wins, he wins, he wins until something else catches his eye and he does it all over again and Jiyong is helpless; he can't take his eyes off of the fire-bright star that is Seungri.

Seungri is spelled V-I-C-T-O-R-Y.

 

***

 

What is Seungri to Jiyong? Is that even a question?

Seungri makes Jiyong feel like he's on top of the entire world. He makes him feel inspired, makes him think things that he's never thought of before. Seungri makes him happy.

Seungri makes him strong.

Seungri is... Seungri is his beginning.

 

***


	9. this is how he changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> daesung is going to be a musician no matter what his dad says. and one day he'll be able to greet lee seunghyun- lee seungri face to face and say 'thank you.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will edit it later

 

**chapter nine**

 

There is a kid and he is five, almost six.

Daseung doesn't know what grade he is in, which is weird because Daesung is seven, almost eight and he is in 2nd grade. He knows this because 2nd graders are seven or eight but this boy is not in kindergarten even though he should be. 

Daesung doesn't know much about him but he does know this:

1\. He is in every club, every activity, every game; too many to count and too little time to try.

"I thought you could only join one club?" Daesung says.

"It's guideline," his friend explains. "People don't usually join more than one club, and at best, it's usually two or three."

 

***

 

2\. He is the kid who once convinced the older students to paint the school pink and got away with it. The kid who pushes the boundaries and lines with an enviable ease.

He causes so much trouble but still manages to stay as the teacher's favorite. He's the little secret in their hearts, their small soft spot because it was _that_ hard to get mad at him. Daesung has heard countless stories of the boy climbing trees and running away from the guard teachers, but somehow arrive to class on time. 

"They say he knows all the secrets in the school."

"We have secrets at this school," Daesung repeats, bemused. "I thought that was only in TV shows."

 

***

 

3\. He's the kid on the announcements every other day and cooks with the lunch ladies. Daesung sees him sometimes, at the library, clearly skipping class to makes up stories and read to the younger students. 

What's even more surprising about it, is that Daesung's pretty sure he's seen some older students sitting in front of the younger boy and listening to him. 

 

***

 

All in all, Daesung doesn't know much about him except this: He wants to meet him.

 

***

 

_Daesung is in class the first time he meets Lee Seung(ri)hyun._

He's short and tiny as he wheels a cart through the door, completely out of place in this classroom filled with bigger kids with his childish shorts and sailor shirt but there was something about him... a presence around him that stole everyone's eyes as he walked in the room.

Something that made him think 'he's special.' Daesung couldn't help but lean forward to see him.

"Seunghyun?" Miss jungnim asks sternly but there's a smile on her face which surprises daesung because she's notoriously known for being strict to students who interrupt in her class. "What are you doing?"

the boy grins as her cheerfully, chubby-cheeks flush with excitement as he waves at the group of people outside to come in.

"miss jungnim, happy birthday!!" he rips off the cover of the cart and reveals a large white cake with red lettering. a crowd of students rush in, filling up the room with streamers and party hats. daesung can spot a few teachers from the outside looking in with grins. 

some older students unfurl a poster that has her face on it with bright color words on the side that says 'thank you for these past 35 years.'

miss jungnim has a wide smile on her face and daesung can tell that she's trying to hide it but no one is fooled. she covers her mouth with a hand and her eyes crinkle.

seunghyun claps his hands to grab everyone's attention. he waits for the room to quiet down before clears his throat and recites, "miss jungnim, thank you for being our school's oldest teacher. today is your birthday and we wanted to show you our love!" 

an older boy, with red wild hair pops up from behind seunghyun, a wide grin plastered to his face. daesung recognizes him as an infamous troublemaker, yunho-hyung who always stands outside for ditching class or throwing paper planes outside.

"yeah miss jungnim! little seungri made the cake, poster, song and everything!" he ruffles the boy's hair and seungri whines at him but his eyes are twinkling with laughter

miss jungnim laughs and her eyes are a little red as she says, "is this why you asked me what my favorite cake was?"

seunghyun grins at her, rubbing the back of his neck. "ehehe."

he snaps his head back towards the crowd of students and snaps his fingers. "you ready guys?" 

yunho-hyung and another boy run out the door before pulling in the most outrageous chair daesung has ever seen. it was a bright, eye-searing yellow with pink and red polka dots all over it. seunghyun walks up to miss jungnim, ushering her into the seat. daesung sees a male teacher from another room holding a video camera filming them. 

miss jungnim laughs as she allows herself to be pushed out into the hallway. everyone in class gets up, whispering and laughing as excitement swept them up.

daesung can feel himself bouncing a little as he spots the band club holding their instruments outside. 

"here." a balloon is pushed into his hand.

it was cute. bright red with a smiley face drawn on it.

daesung looks up at the girl in question and asks, "what's this for?"

the girl winks at him, "you'll see." she grabs one of the students running and shoves half of the bundle of balloons into his hands, "seungri wants everyone to have a balloon. get to it!" before she's gone too. 

daseung hears drums in the distance, he looks out the window and there he was. tiny and small and still pushing miss jungnim as dozens of people ran after them. laughter and music and the bright, joyful sound of trumpets filled the air.

"what are you waiting for kid? come on!" yunho-hyung yells at him, he's pushing the cart with the cake wobbling precariously. a girl with bright blonde hair smacks him. "you'll drop the cake idiot, hurry up! we gotta get there before seungri does!"

daesung looks at the balloon in his hand, bobbing in the air with a bright smile and looks back outside where a crowd of people surrounded the boy and miss jungnim. 

(daesung's dad wants him to focus on studying. he wants him to study and study and win in life. he wants him to become a doctor, a laywer, a business owner but daesung-)

daseung runs after them. 

 

***

 

seungri holds up his small hand, there's a balloon tied around his wrist, red and bright and reminds daesung of his own. he's holding a mic in his other hand and there's a wide grin on his face as he stands on stage with an entourage of people around him.

miss jungnim sits behind a table that's labeled 'birthday girl.'

seungri laughs into is mic, a happy little sound that makes everyone around him smile. he points at the teacher with a camera and then to miss jungnim. "miss jungnim you better be ready to cry!" his eyes widened and a flush paints his cheeks. "happy tears! you better be ready to cry happy tears miss jungnim!"

the students behind him laugh at him, leaning on each other and teasingly call him out and it's all such fun that daesung can't help but grin and join in. 

seungri pouts at them all (it's a criminally adorable pout) before clearing his throat again, "alright, alright let's just begin yea?" he yells at them as a roaring 'yea' echoes back.

behind him, a banner falls down and the words 'we'll miss you' are painted in bright red paint. seungri gestures at the band, eyes crinkling merrily as yunho-hyung and 7 other students burst through the curtain and break into a dance just as the music starts.

and daesung feels swept up. feels like he's been caught inside a wave that's chaotic and uncontrollable. feels like he's on a rollercoaster of emotions and everyone around him is just a part of him. everyone is screaming. they're screaming and singing and laughing.

and at one point, someone lets go of their balloon; daesung thinks it was seungri but he's not really sure because he had been distracted. distracted by the wild emotions surrounding him. distracted by the breathless energy thrumming through him. but daseung remembers seeing a single balloon floating in the sky, red against blue, lone and perfect before thousands of other balloons rose up to follow it.

thousands of balloons covered the sky in shades of red and blue and green and orange and purple and yellow and-

daseung. 

daesung sees seungri's wide grins, shining eyes and bright voice reverberating throughout the courtyard just as the sunshine overhead hit his hair mid-air and he shines of gold.

daesung feels a fire burning inside him and his heart drums a beat that sounds awfully like _want_.

_(i want that._

_i want that._

_i want that. )_

-o.o.o- 

alright. so maybe that wasn't the first time daesung encountered lee seunghyun, but in his defense, he hadn't known who it was at the time.

-o.o.o-

he had been at school, waiting out the storm and had looked out the window to see a boy, soaking wet, singing and skipping in the rain. 

and daesung had been flabbergasted because _who does that?_ that sort of thing only happened in movies or tv shows. 

the boy had been holding a red, red, red umbrella that looked so bright against the grey skies and twirling it around, paying no mind to the rain that had hit his body.

daesung had leaned closer to the window, shivering as the cold wind filled the room and the boy's bright voice reached his ears.

_"somewhere over the rainbow.. way up high... and the dreams that you dream of once in a lullaby..."_

his voice had been light and airy, almost as if he were whispering them in his ear. (the song had been stuck in daesung's head for the rest of the day.) 

_"somewhere over the rainbow... bluebirds fly... and the dreams that you dare to... oh why, oh why can't I?"_

daseung's dad doesn't like musicians. he doesn't like singers and thinks they're a waste of time. he scoffs everytime a singer is shown on tv. he frowns whenever daesung sings at home or expresses interest in music.  

daseung had given up on the idea of being a musician, had stopped voicing his opinions and resigned himself to becoming a lawyer or a doctor like his dad wanted him to be.

but daesung, ittle daseung- who tried so hard to please his strict father and passive mother- had looked at the boy and his cheerful smiles as he danced in the rain, and thought to himself, _i want to be like that._

-o.o.o-

kang daesung is 8 when lee seunghyun changes his entire life. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slowly changing things little by little  
> song is called over the rainbow


	10. this is who he is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seungri is 7. he is almost 8-years-old. he knows what he's going to have to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is NOT in chronological order. (if you noticed i may or may not have skipped seungri's 7th b-day) argh. this is because ideas pop up and i'm like "oh i should've added that" but then it's too late and i end up doing it later.

on some days, seungri wakes up slowly. he wakes up in bed, blinks once. twice. 

his heart beat is calm and gentle, a lazy beat that drummed in his chest and seungri can feel the silence enveloping him leaving nothing but the b-dump, b-dump, b-dump of his chest.

he breathes in a slow drag of air before he's falling asleep again. 

(he doesn't want to open his eyes.)

-o.o.o-  

> jiyong grabs his phone and throws it on the ground, it shatters with a loud _crack_. his eyes are burning, burning, burning and seungri gets lost in them as his protest catches in his throat.
> 
> jiyong clutches his neck and pushes him against a wall. he whispers against his throat and the words sear through his skin, "keep your eyes on me. don't you _dare_ look away from me."
> 
> it makes him hazy, his mind lost and stuffy as he burns under his eyes.
> 
> but seungri can feel his nails scratching and biting into the skin of his neck; the pain grounds him to reality just enough so that he can close his eyes right before jiyong-

-o.o.o-

jiyong loves with a fury. loves with everything he has and never lets go. he'd rather ruin the thing he loves than let anyone else have it. he loves like it's the only thing he has left.

and it scares seungri.

seungri who can so easily be consumed by his fire and be burnt up until nothing of him is left.

(seungri who doesn't want to be burnt again.)

-o.o.o- 

> "mama i want to be an artist.
> 
> "mama i want to be a chef."
> 
> "mama i want to be part of an orchestra."
> 
> "mama i want to own a business."
> 
> "mama i want to be an actor."
> 
> "mama i want to be a dancer."
> 
> "mama i want to be a singer."
> 
> "mama i want to be an idol."
> 
> _"mama-"_

-o.o.o-

seungri sees a boy, the age of 16.

he sees the boy everytime he closes his eyes.

he sees the boy live, learn, love, laugh, cry, sing, dance, die. 

seungri sees a boy.

-o.o.o-   

> "please don't leave me," jiyong murmurs into his skin. 
> 
> seungri can feel a wetness seep into his shirt and a slow helplessness fill him. he asks, "are you crying?"
> 
> "yes," jiyong whispers. "i'm a mess. i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry."
> 
> seungri hears his apologies the memory of jiyong in bed, naked with a woman with a half-apologetic smile and a soft cry on his lips comes to mind because that's what it was wasn't it? half-hearted. half-love. half-interest. 
> 
> seungri remembers those lonely nights where jiyong wouldn't pick up for months, as if _seungri_ had been the one to do something wrong only to come into his house at 3am in the morning with clingy hands and limbs plastered to his body like nothing happened.
> 
> seungri remembers that empty, empty feeling when jiyong kissed him with another woman's red lipsitck smeared on his lips and the whispers of love in his ears even as he felt the coldness of the woman's jewlery biting into his back-
> 
> but. 
> 
> but seungri forgives him.
> 
> "it's ok."
> 
> because jiyong mouths the words 'i love you' even if he doesn't say them aloud. because he presses soft kisses to his throat like he means it. because when he pulls him into bed with heated eyes that make seungri fall apart all over again, it almost makes seungri forget about sorrys and jewelry and woman and lipstick.
> 
> "it's ok." (it's not.)

-o.o.o-

seungri is selfish. he's selfish because he knows that he's a l-i-a-r.

he's selfish because he doesn't want to admit it.

he's selfish because he's changing what could be and what had been because seungri doesn't want to be hurt anymore.

seungri doesn't want a life where everything he is leads to jiyong. he doesn't want a life where he's shattered and ruined by gdragon.

he doesn't want to drown. he doesn't want to burn. 

(he wants to fly. )

-o.o.o-    

> that time, seungri got into yg because of his dancing skills. he got there and was looked at and was demanded more of. he got there and bled and sweated and cried until he was finally accepted. he got there and was deemed not good enough. he got there and clawed his way to the top and proved everyone wrong.
> 
> this time, seungri isn't going to be the one who goes to yg. he isn't going to be known as the one who's only skill is to be funny. the one who's only good at mcing. the one who has nothing special to show.
> 
> ~~(because even after all these years, all these lives, it still stings. it still hurts to remember what it was like to be ridiculed and put down.)~~
> 
> this seungri is going to make something of himself earlier. he's not going to let anyone make him doubt himself ever again. 
> 
> this time seungri is out for revenge. 
> 
> this time seungri is going to be so bright, so brilliant that no one will ever be able to doubt the fact that seungri means victory. 
> 
> this time-
> 
> ~~(he's not going to join bigbang.)~~

-o.o.o-

but seungri is a hypocrite. he's a hypocrite because even as he says this, he's still circling around kwon jiyong. 

he's a hypocrite because he still cares about him more than anything else. he's a hypocrite because-

-o.o.o-     

> _i looked for you at the start of every night; needed you when you weren’t in my hands, in my arms, in my mouth - told myself this was poison, this was a mistake, this was addiction,_ seungri writes, _but i still did it anyways because god look at you. i love you. i love you. i love you._

-o.o.o-

seungri wants to live a happy life. where he's free. where he's not following the other paths that he's already walked. he wants the sky to not cover his eyes anymore. he wants to do everything he couldn't before.

seungri won't let himself fall anymore. he loves- loved- will love kwon jiyong. but seungri won't let that rule him. he promises himself this:

'he'll be happy this time.'

-o.o.o-  

> seungri feels it coming. feels the cold embrace of death reaching him and oh- it's familiar and seungri wants to laugh so badly. it's oh-so-familiar and the wild thought of _why had he been so afraid?_  fills his head. 
> 
> because this feeling of slowly being suffocated. of a soft pillow pressing down his mouth like a parody of a kiss and the slow rotting of his chest as flowers bloomed and climbed up his throat was home. 
> 
> _jiyong_ , seungri thinks. 
> 
> (distantly, seungri can hear a scream.) 

-o.o.o-

"seungri-ah!" cold fingers poked his cheeks, it makes seungri's face scrunch up. 

"hyung-ah," seungri whines childishly as he pulls the covers up to hide his face. "it's too early!"

seungri can feel, more than see jiyong's grin.

"seungri-ah, you were the one who said you wanted to see the snow fall."

seungri peeks out from underneath his blanket, asking him, "it's snowing?"

jiyong smiles at him, he's wearing the dragon hat seungri had knitted for him and the soft green clashes violently with his bright orange jacket. somehow, jiyong makes it work seungri thinks to himself, somehow.

jiyong points at his window where seungri can see little white specks covering the screen. 

"ah!!" seungri squeals happily, feeling the last clutches of sleep leave him as he runs up to press his nose against the cold glass. 

"seungri-ah," jiyong holds up his jacket and seungri obligingly holds out his arms. jiyong has a soft smile on his face as he buttons up his jacket.

seungri vibrates in excitement and jiyong's smile widens, "your mom made cocoa for us. we'll have to come back early."

"ok," seungri chirps, eyes brightening with eagerness. "we'll go make snowballs and play in the park. or maybe go ice-skating!"

jiyong raises an eyebrow bemusedly, "but it's not cold enough to do any of that."

"then we'll wait until it is," seungri declares.

jiyong laughs at that. "ok then."

seungri tilts his head up to allow jiyong to stuff his hair into a panda beanie and freezes as he feels soft fingers tracing the circles under his eyes.

"have you been having nightmares again?" jiyong asks.

seungri peeks at him with one eye and sees him biting his lips worriedly.

"just a little," seungri admits.

jiyong purses his lips, eyebrows furrowed as a sign of thinking before he announces, "i'm staying over today."

seungri blinks. once, twice, before grinning widely at him. "ok then!!"

jiyong laces their fingers together as they walk down the stairs. "it's almost your 8th birthday."

seungri grins at him. "yep. we should have another party!"

jiyong looks at him dryly, "how many parties have we had already?"

seungri hums. "well there was one for new years, seollal, chuseok,  buddah's birthday, children's day, your birthday, halloween-"

"including all the other parties that you held just because," jiyong interjected.

"those can't be counted hyung-ah! they were get-togethers!" seungri retorts. "and besides, you can't have too many parties!" 

jiyong tugs him into the kitchen.

"what's this about too many parties?" seungri's mom asks with a laugh as she slides a glass of warm milk over.

"hyung-ah thinks i have too many," seungri pouts.

"it's true!" jiyong defends himself, "every year, seungri-ah invites everyone in town and it becomes really a big-deal!"

there's a flush on his cheeks when seungri's mom gains an understanding look on her face and he pouts at that.

seungri's mom has a devious smirk on her lips as she says to seungri, "seunghyunnie, how about we have a small celebration this year, one with close friends and family only?"

seungri sips his warm milk with utmost concentration as he thinks it over; jiyong's hand clenches onto his tightly. "...ok! we can have hyung-ah and his family come over then."

"no one else?" jiyong asks. "what about yunho or bae-an or your other friends?"

"but _you're_ my bestest friend jiyong-hyung," seungri says sincerely, "i like you more than food, more than singing, and even more than pandas!"

jiyong has a pleased smile on his face. 

seungri's mom hides a laugh. 

seungri hides one too and takes another sip.

-o.o.o-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boom. didn't see that coming huh? lol seungri really thinks he can avoid bigbang like that??? haha. wonder what's gonna happen next. wait. 
> 
> (should i make this into a series? to add scenes that didn't show up like jiyong's birthdays? or should i just put them in this story and leave it like that?)
> 
> poem: inkskinned/tumblr.com


	11. this is what he's about to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alright, alright. seungri is 7 and he needs so much. he needs to do this. to do that. he needs to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reuploaded it. asian financial crisis was a real thing that lasted from 1997-1999. seungri's family ran a golf place thingy right? haaaa hopefully i'm not messing this up lol.

seungri is seven.     

 _"-pean powers are now calling it the asian financial crisis. stocks have fallen 30% and are expected to-"_  the feeling of something being changed, as if someone had pushed all the furniture in their house 3 inches to the left and then 5 inches to the right.

he knows it's coming.

he had known and seen and remembered. 

the asian crisis of 1997. july 2nd, six more months. (he doesn't have enough time.)

he remembers the fear that had gone through his neighborhood.

the fear that they would not be able to make enough money for their family.

the fear that they would not have enough food to eat.

the fear that their country wouldn't be able to recover from the crash.

he remembers his mom, pale and slightly gaunt, slipping the then-rare pieces of meat into his bowl because he had finished his.

he remembers his mom with her strong hands, picking up golf balls one by one, handing out pamphlets to people at daylight even as they spit at her.

he remembers his dad working day in, day out, trying to bring in more customers; taking on more jobs to bring home just a bit more money for his family.

he remembers old men with mocking smiles and pitying eyes, with perfectly tailored suits and gold rings on thick knuckles.

he remembers following his dad and seeing him bowing in front of people, face sweaty with a smile perfectly plastered on his lips; the line of his back faintly trembling underneath his worn down clothes as they laughed at his efforts.

he remembers his dad's grin when he came home that night, holding a treat out to him with a lie on his lips.

he remembers his little sister, the tears she had cried because there just  _wasn't_ enough food.

he remembers his mom sobbing quietly into his hair when he was supposed to be asleep, muttering quiet apologies to him and hanna. 

he remembers his mom smiling at him the next day.

he remembers, he remembers, he remembers. three more months. (he doesn't have enough time.)   

 

> _"-these times will hopefully pass, however currently, there are signs of another potential market-"_  the feeling of being pushed off a cliff face first without any warning. 

 

-o.o.o-

 

seungri has always learned quickly. he's always adapted quickly. every second, every minute, every hour, every day. he's learned that the best way to survive is to grow.

this is what he learns: how to stay strong underneath the scorching sun. how to not falter in front of scorns and humiliation. how to not give in to hopelessness and despair. how to push forward even as the world pushed back. 

this is how he grows: with a smile.

 

-o.o.o-

 

 _"i r_ _emember white teeth biting on orange rust, red eyes lingering on yellow mouths,"_  seungri croons softly, fingers caressing the piano keys lightly.  _"i remember green fingers and pink bills, gold coins and silver rings-"_  

he tilts his head back, letting the note linger before breathing in sharply. _"oh, i remember you and your hungry eyes. oh yes, i remember you and your desperate cries."_

the door behind him opens but seungri pays it no mind.

 _"paint me with your colors, with your white teeth and red eyes. bite me if it'll temper your hungry mouth but don't let go of what is mine. don't forget what is gold, does not shine,"_  seungri sings, eyes closed as he taps a low beat.  _"oh, i remember you and your hungry lies. oh yes, i remember you and your desperate smiles."_

the sound of light footsteps echoed in the room.

 _"don't fall, don't fall, don't fall,"_  seungri whispers, his fingers were flying across the keys to match his pace, _"don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. that's not the person i_ _remember. i_ _remember white teeth biting on orange rust, red eyes lingering on yellow mouths. i_ _remember green fingers and pink bills, gold coins and silver rings. but oh, i_ _don't remember you. i d_ _on't remember you and your sad smiles. i_ _don't remember you and your quiet goodbyes. i_ _don't remember this pathetic person in front of me."_

the light tap, tap, tap of a cane came closer.

 _"oh i_ _don't remember you at all, this broken person in the mirror,"_  seungri sings softly, slowly. _"oh yes, i_ _don't remember being you. i_ _don't remember being you at all so please-"_

seungri opens his eyes, gazing at the white ceiling above before murmuring quietly, _"oh please don't fool me with your lies. please oh please don't smile like nothing's wrong."_

he breathes out slowly, letting the tension from his shoulders relax, letting his fingers rest on the cold piano keys before twisting his head to the right to meet the man's eyes.

"mr. chunghee," seungri greets him, he pulls a small, slow smile to his face. "how long have you been here?"

mr. chunghee's mouth curls into a wry smile making his wrinkles become even more prominent against his face; seungri has half the mind to try and smooth them out.

he ignores seungri's question and asks, "seungri-ah, what has made you so sad?"

and seungri closes his eyes again, this time tilting his head to enjoy the warm sunlight filtering through the windows. 

mr. chunghee lets him stay lost in his thoughts as always with a patient smile on his lips and that's what seungri likes about him. he likes his stuffy traditional clothing, the black cane he carried around for show, his low voice, and patient eyes that belied the passionate soul of a singer.

he likes how mr. chunghee never asks questions that seungri won't,  _can't_  answer. how he always waits for seungri to open his eyes again, for the dreamlike fog lingering in them to finally recede before saying anything.

"there's something about this room," seungri says to him simply, his gaze falls on the keys in front of him. "that makes me feel nostalgic."

"ah," mr. chunghee replies. a pause. "i will contact my friend this evening."

most of all, seungri likes how he doesn't need to explain himself and still be understood by him. 

 

 

-o.o.o-

 

"hanna," seungri coos to his baby sister, laughing as she tried to catch his fingers in her small hands. "hanna, oppa is here!"

hanna giggles at him, eyes shining with an innocence that makes seungri's chest squeeze. her cheeks are chubby and flushed pink and her arms and legs are flailing wildly against the soft blanket. seungri knows she's at the age where she can walk now, but the whole family spoils her too much and she throws tantrums whenever someone puts her down.

seungri gently rests his head on her stomach and blows soft raspberries. he laughs when she squeals delightedly at him. 

seungri feels a thousand little tingles inside his stomach and chest; her body smells like baby powder and milk and she's so soft and warm. he wants to protect her. (he needs to protect her. he  _owes_  it to her.)

lee hanna's first word was not  _appa_  or  _eomma_. lee hanna's first word was  _oppa_.

and maybe it was because seunghyun was the one who always spent the most time with her.

he was the one who ended up taking care her when their parents were out working.

he was the one always keeping her company at night, making sure she didn't wake up their parents and ending up with her in his arms in the morning because he had been too tired to go back to his own bed.

he was the one who played with her, keeping her company and making her laugh when she was sad or lonely. 

but  _seunghyun_  wasn't the one who worked all day to make sure they still had a home to live in.

but  _seunghyun_  wasn't the one who went out all day to make sure they still had food on their plates.

seunghyun was someone who still cried when he fell, still childish enough to demand for hugs.

seunghyun was someone who sulked when he didn't get a treat, still begged even when he knew it was selfish of him.

seunghyun was someone who froze when his little sister starved in front of him, completely helpless whenever she cried.

lee hanna looks at seunghyun like he hung the stars and the moon. lee hanna looks at seunghyun like he's her entire world and seunghyun has never had anyone look at him like that before. he's never had anyone depend on him before.

lee hanna is the first person to make seunghyun want to be more than who he was.

"hanna, my little yeodongsaeng," seungri whispers into the fabric of her onesie and presses a soft kiss on her forehead. "i promise you won't be sad this time." 

 

-o.o.o-

 

late spring skies, blue and cloudy, the air is crisp with rain.

seungri is bored because jiyong was at his bi-monthly training secessions and wouldn't be back until the next day. seungri wants to complain about but he can't because it was already enough of a miracle to find out that jiyong lived in gwangju and not seoul. 

what had changed? seungri wonders, he blinks and- 

 

> "hello, we're your next door neighboors." the woman says and there's a boy behind her leg, brown eyes peeking out shyly. "this is my son, kwon jiyong. jiyongie, go say hi." 
> 
> jiyong steps out from behind her leg and politely bows, "hello."
> 
> his mom laughs quietly and replies brightly, "oh my, thank you for the gift! this is my son lee seunghyun, he's 6 years old this year. i'm so glad that there are other children here for him to hang out with."
> 
> the other woman smiles, "yes, jiyong is only 3 years older than your son then. i'm sure they'll get along great."

 

-and huffs into annoyance, does it really matter? it isn't the first time this has happened. nor will it be the last.

he'll take what he can get.

 

-o.o.o-

 

seungri slows down his pace as the sidewalk greets the street, eyes locked onto the sky because he thinks he saw a red bird from the corner of his eye earlier and maybe if he wished hard enough, it would appear again.

and it does.

a red bird, a brilliant sulfurous flame against the grey skies dancing to a song only it knows. seungri watches, entranced as its wings beat against the air, blending together into a scarlet blur and maybe there's something poetic in that, seungri thinks.

his fingers itch and he wishes he brought a pen with him but jiyong was the one with the pens and seungri was the one who held the papers. 

he reaches out to the sky, wondering if he could will the bird to come close, to catch one of its feathers and brilliant flames in between his fingers.

there's a breathless cry that escapes from his lips as the bird swoops down and-   

 

> -a wail escapes from his lips, as if something was being dragged up from the core of his being, and the shade of scarlet convulses. grey mist falls away, settling as limbs, and indistinct features settle, harden. black hair tumbles around a pretty face and pink, thin lips and he gasps for breath, one hand coming up to press against his chest. 
> 
> his brown eyes meet his and seungri sucks in a startled breath as he sees the swirling emotions of desperation and relief burning in them. a trembling hand reaches towards him, "seungr-"

 

"-ri!"

seungri blinks and quickly swerves to the left to avoid running over the person in front of him, but his foot gets caught against a stray pebble and he goes  _down_. or at least, he should have.  
  
when he didn't end up against the cold, hard concrete floor, he cautiously opens one eye, then the other. there's an arm wrapped around him, warm and solid and seungri follows it up to the owner's face, finding a familiar face holding back a grin.

"yunho-hyung!" seungri says. 

yunho manages to catch him at an angle that locks his muscles just long enough to regain his balance and lets go when he's certain that seungri can stand on his own. then he steps back to take a sip of his drink that had somehow survived his impromptu save without spilling so much as a drop.

(seungri takes advantage of his inattention to try and find the red bird again. he droops when he sees no sign of that brilliant red color.)

after yunho swallows his sip, his free hand comes up and pats seungri's head with a faint grin.

"seungri-ah," he says knowingly. "what caught your attention this time?"

"nothing," seungri lies before almost immediately bringing up an arm to rub the back of his head because they both knew he was lying.  
  
yunho's grin widens though, so he obviously didn't mind much.

"sure," he scoffs, extending a hand to him. "why don't i believe you?"

seungri takes it, ignoring the way yunho's fingers automatically curls over his and shrugs, smiling in a half-apologetic-half-cheeky way. "sorry."

yunho barks out a laugh and stuffs their hands in the pocket of his jacket.

seungri huffs at him but doesn't protest because it was  _cold_  and everything was so  _wet._ he eyes yunho's drink enviously and he snorts, tilting the cup towards him. yunho snorts even louder when seungri widens his eyes, innocently asking him to feed him. 

seungri hums in appreciation at the warm chocolatey taste.

"jiyong isn't here." there was a casual lilt to the observation.

"he's at his training," seungri answers just as casually. 

yunho hums, absentmindedly pulling him out of the way of a puddle. they wave at the lady across the street- well, seungri does. yunho tips his head at her like one of those western cowboys they saw in movies once and seungri teases him for him.

yunho huffs at him in return and insults his taste in panda hats which is  _blasphemy_ and  _what do you mean they look tacky?_  they bicker over it for a while, easily falling into the pattern they had had before jiyong had come into his life and it's nice.

they walk all over town, ending up miles from his original starting point before yunho finally cuts to the chase and asks him bluntly, "alright, what's bothering you?" 

yunho's domineering and hot personality has not changed. he's just as frowny and grumpy as before.

ever the straightlaced boy, seungri thinks fondly.

yunho ruffles his head roughly. "if you have a problem, just tell me." 

seungri remembers him saying the same thing when he had found him crying behind the dance studio, shaken from his meeting with jiyong. "hey, if you have a problem, tell me. i'll listen." 

seungri smiles at him, "yunho-hyung, if the one i liked was you, it would have been fine."

yunho laughs and says the same thing he did before, "what a stupid thing to say." 

yunho stands on the broken sidewalk, overlooking the crooked path that led back to the center of the city, twisting the chains of the bracelet he normally wears and will still wear in the future. seungri wonders about that sometimes, wonders what stories he had to tell about that thin bracelet, but then again- seungri has his own secrets to hide too.

seungri thinks of his own bracelet, thick and heavy against his wrist, thinks of the times he had twisted the metal out of shape. thinks and remembers one day reaching down to touch it and finding it gone, lost forever along the paths he's walked.

his heart clenches at the memory of it, this first gift forgotten and never to return, just like the sly, beautiful, cunning leader who once pressed it into his hands. (because they'll never be the same. they're all so  _different_  and  _seungri_  is different and-)

"yunho-hyung," seungri says and he thinks of his parents with their rough hands and warm smiles, of baby hanna, face-red from crying and bright laughs, of waking up in the mornings to an empty bed and a soft voice in his ear. he thinks of what he'll lose and what he'll gain. "i'm going to be an idol." 

-o.o.o-

 

"what do you mean,  _you're going to be debuting?_ " yunho demands, hands flapping faintly like he can’t decide whether or not he wants to shake seungri or flail around. _"why was i_ _not told about this?!"_  

seungri blinks at him, honestly a little bewildered.

"but i told you about it?" he asks, baffled. "yesterday even?"

mr. chunghee, sitting on the other end of the room with papers sprawled in front of him, chuckles a little and tips his head enough to grin at them. "what did you tell him seungri-ah?" he asks. "you have the tendency to skip words that other people have to explain."

ah. 

"i have enough songs for an ep album," seungri explains, and he can’t fight a grin at yunho's expression. "but you know, i remember telling you about it. are you sure i didn't?"

"tell me my ass," yunho retorts hotly, "all you said was-" and his voice goes higher-pitched in a  _horrible_ imitation of him "-yunho-hyung, i'm going to be an idol ok?"

yunho slams the door behind him and raises his arms above his head in defeat, "you didn't even answer my question before you said that and left!"

seungri shouts at him indignantly, "what are you talking about? i walked home with you an' everything!"

yunho replies back just as indignantly, "you left mentally!"

"what's  _that_  supposed to mean?" 

"it means you're an idiot," yunho shoots without hesitation.

"i'm not an idiot, you jerk!"

"you're seven! you're not old enough to be doing this stuff alone!" 

"well then, it's fine since he has me with him," mr. chunghee interjects cheerfully. 

"and me!" mr. hanwook pipes up. he catches the raised brow yunho directs at him and raises his hands, backpedaling hastily. "and mr. chunghee, who, by the way, has  _experience."_

his brow goes back down and yunho droops, seemingly losing the fire from his movements as he looks around the room helplessly muttering, "of course you would support this. am i the only adult around here?"

"you're twelve," seungri deadpans.

yunho waves a dismissive hand. "and?" he slumps down into a nearby chair. "do your parents know what you're doing? jiyong?"

seungri pauses, "...my mom knows. i'm sure she'll convince my dad. you know how he is."

yunho did know. seungri's dad is overzealous when it comes to his children and is the source of half the craziness seungri possesses. luckily, seungri's mom has the stubbornness and patience of a buddha. 

"...wait." yunho lifts his head from his arm and shoots seungri an intensely interested look, "you didn't say anything about jiyong."

seungri smiles innocently at him. butter-wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth innocently.

no way, he mouths. "you didn't tell him!?"

seungri avoids his gaze.

yunho opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again, and entirely fails to say anything before a wicked grin forms on his lips. he jumps up from his seat.

"forget what i said. i one hundred _percent_ support this." he pumps his arms to his chest, "i can't _wait_ to see the look on his face when he hears about  _this_!"

"why is that the deal-breaker for you," seungri complains weakly, pulling a face. "why do you guys dislike each other so much?"

the expression yunho levels at him is entirely incredulous and seungri stops, thinks about what he said, before he groans, tipping forward to bury his face in mr. chunghee's lap. "stop it," seungri says with an almost wail. "i know."

he can still feel yunho's incredulous stare.

_"_ _i know."_

yunho rolls his eyes and pats seungri's head. "i'm glad you're not as oblivious to his faults as you make yourself to be."

 

-o.o.o-

 

"still, i can't believe you kept this a secret for so long," yunho says, like he's still coming to terms with it.

seungri laughs lightly, "i'm good at keeping secrets."

there’s a pause, and he tips his head to the side, staring up at seungri through narrowed eyes. "wait a minute. when i said we should enter the dancing contest last month, and you told me to go ahead but refused- that wasn’t because you didn't want jiyong to feel left out, was it?"

seungri's smile stiffens against his face, "um. i mean, jiyong-hyung would've been really sad if i left for a whole entire week and it would have been really awkward with me being 7 and i was-"

"meeting with a potential publisher at the time," mr. hanwook finishes cheerfully because he’s a  _jerk_.

seungri takes one look at yunho's face and decides that he doesn't need his future sight to tell him to bolt for the door. 

-o.o.o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't really like how i ended this hmm. comment what you think.


	12. these are the first to fall (the first to fly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you and him and you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is life. exam is tomorrow should've been studying. i regret. ah. what are music terms?? i can't think. i have failed my orchestra teacher. i'm sorry.

it's been 5 months since they've announced it.

since they've finally acknowledged everything that was going on in the country. since they've finally acknowledged that there was a problem.

since they've finally slapped a fancy name over it and called it "officially a crisis."

(what was it _before_ then if not a crisis? if the starving people on the streets or the countless of families being kicked out of their homes didn't mean a crisis- what made it a crisis _now_? the fact that other people in other countries are finally taking notice? the fact that your precious millionaires are losing a bit of money? you want to scream.)

it's been 5 months since the start of the asian financial crisis.

these days are the same, with the thrum of anxiousness that plagues the country as paranoia and fear runs amok.

these days are the same as people eye each other warily as if afraid that the other would turn on them.

these days are the same as people begin to forget how to smile without looking at their watches or each other's purses.

these days are the same as people continue to paint gold over rot. 

you're no one important- just another random face in a crowd of strangers.

maybe you're a parent, working to make sure there's still a family waiting for you at home. maybe you're a teenager, doing what you can to help your family.

maybe you're an old woman, picking up trash to exchange for money later because that's the only way you'll survive.

maybe you're a middle-aged woman, looking for a way out of this mess and doing it the only way you know how.

or maybe you're a young man, trying to follow your dreams but finding out that life isn't all that great to dreamers. 

but then again. that's not important. 

you're just another name in this nameless crowd.

-o.o.o-

you walk the streets full of rushed crowds, desperate faces, hungry eyes, thin fingers, and wide smiles mouthing the same words over and over.

you walk these streets with the same two words beating in your brain, demanding for your attention, for your focus and you give it to them because it's all you can do. paste a smile on your face and keeping moving forward even if it means walking over other people's bodies.

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you walk past a store employee with her too young face and her cheerful voice and bored smile and poisonous eyes. "welcome honored customer, would you like to examine our selection of-"

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you walk past a sweaty man, holding out sticks of fried squid, yelling out at the uncaring crowd with a half-aggressive, half-hopeless voice, anxious for someone, _anyone_ to come near him. "half-price! if you buy one, you get another at half the price you paid for-"

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you walk past a beggar leaning against a wall- a common sight these days- begging people with desolate and desperate eyes. "please, have mercy, any change would be fine. spare some-"

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you walk past a duo, one dressed too little and the other dressed too warm whispering to each other with low, nervous voices and shifty eyes; both of them were too young to be doing what they were doing. "how much for one night-"

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you walk past a man pushing a pageboy away from his path with an angry voice, carelessly dismissing the boy's pained cry and walking away briskly. "scram! i have no time for you-"

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you walk past a woman holding out a red bucket with increasingly tired eyes, pleading for a little bit of kindness and help. "charity! for charity could you please-"

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you walk past a chubby-faced man surrounded by a crowd of hopeful, desperate people as he spun lies of hope from his lips. "enter the lottery and win money beyond your wildest dreams-"

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you walk past an empty shop with tvs playing in front of the window just as smooth, lilting voice hums from one of the screens.  _"i r_ _emember white teeth biting on orange rust, red eyes lingering on yellow mouths."_

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you pause, glancing back at the tv, eyes stopping on the boy dressed in clean, white clothes and curled on a white floor. he was a cute kid, almost angelic with his baby fat still visible, all dark curls and pale skin. almost but not quite.

 _"paint me with your colors, with your white teeth and red eyes. bite me if it'll temper your hungry mouth but don't let go of what is mine. don't forget what is gold, does not shine,"_  the boy on the tv sings sweetly.

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you shiver, as his sweet voice contrasted with the cutting, almost accusatory lyrics that seemed so fitting with current events.

and maybe that's what caused you to move closer. because it is the first time you can remember that someone actually admitted to what was happening.

the fact that the person who finally speaks about was a child made it all the more shocking. 

the corner of the boy's mouth lifts up weakly behind the screen and you can't help but notice that his lips are painted a bright yellow amongst the black and white setting.  _"oh, i remember you and your hungry lies. oh yes, i remember you and your desperate smiles."_

(money, money, money. walk, walk, walk.)

you walk back to the window, debating with yourself whether or not you wanted to go inside the shop but ultimately deciding not to. (distantly you wonder why you haven't left yet but then the boy turns his head to look at the camera from the corner of his eye and you remember why.)

 _"don't fall, don't fall, don't fall,"_  the boy whispers reverently, arms arching as the piano notes increased from their previous light tempo; the camera narrows on the tips of his fingers- and you note that they're stained with a colorless ink- before sliding into a side view of his lying body.  _"don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. that's not the person i_ _remember. i_ _remember white teeth biting on orange rust, red eyes lingering on yellow mouths. i_ _remember green fingers and pink bills, gold coins and silver rings."_

(money, money, money. walk, walk, stop.)  

a chill goes down your spine as the boy's voice rises with the music and he pushes himself up into a sitting position, one leg still flat against the floor and the other prompted up. it's the first time the boy's looked the camera directly and your breath falters as his burning gaze meets yours.

 _"but oh, i_ _don't remember you. i d_ _on't remember you and your sad smiles. i_ _don't remember you and your quiet goodbyes. i_ _don't remember this pathetic person in front of me,"_ the boy belts, there's a sardonic smile on that doesn't suit his childish face at all. it sends hot sticks of shame down your back and your polite smile finally falls from your face.

(money, money, money. walk, stop, stop.)

you move a little closer to the window and almost jump in surprise when someone bumps against your arm. you're surrounded by other people, all of them watching the screen with unreadable eyes. conflicted eyes. mesmerized eyes. 

you glance back the boy on the screen, his right fingers are playing a puddle on the floor, the tips of his fingers lightly touching the red color and it seeps into his sleeve. 

(money, money, money. stop, stop, stop.)

the boy brings his arm up and rubs at the liquid between his fingers curiously before he tilts his head back; you see a flash of white teeth biting on orange sleeves and yellow lips smeared with red paint.

(money, money, money. stop, stop, stop.)

someone opens the shop door and the music grows louder. the piano grows in speed as the previously quiet violins come to life.

the boy narrows his eyes faintly, he slowly rises from his position and walks forward. his posture is a little tired and as the low lighting in the background outlines his form, you can't help but think he looks like an angel.  _"don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. that's not the person i_ _remember."_ his voice cracks a little, almost like a sob.

(money, money, stop, stop, stop, stop.)

the boy covers his face with his arms and the music stops for a beat and for a moment, you think he's crying- it makes you want to tug him into a hug and promise him the whole world if it would make him smile again. 

 _"i remember white teeth biting on orange rust, red eyes lingering on yellow mouths."_ the boy's voice comes out strong as the sound of violins descends in the background, _"i_ _remember green fingers and pink bills, gold coins and silver rings. but oh-"_ his arm reaches out towards the camera (his eyes are brown you realize with a start; you had forgotten that the video was in black and white.) _"i_ _don't remember you. i d_ _on't remember you and your sad smiles. i_ _don't remember you and your quiet goodbyes. i_ _don't remember this pathetic person in front of me."_

(money, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.)

 _"oh i_ _don't remember you at all, this broken person in the mirror,"_  the boy sings softly sweetly, slowly walking towards the camera, reaching out a hesitant hand with gentle, honey, brown eyes. _"oh yes, i_ _don't remember being you. i_ _don't remember being you at all so please-"_  

there's a low sob from your right. someone reaches out their own hand towards the glass window to meet him. 

the boy's mouth finally, _finally_ curves into a smile that curls around his teeth and you suddenly know what it feels to lose the air from your lungs because _god_ - _"oh please don't fool me with your lies. please oh please don't smile like nothing's wrong._ _please oh, please..."_

(stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.)

_"i remember you."_

you stop moving. your mind is blissfully quiet. 

-o.o.o- 

you walk the streets full of rushed crowds, desperate faces, hungry eyes, thin fingers, and wide smiles mouthing the same words over and over.

you walk these streets but this time it's different. because you're walking the streets with a smile on your face that feels real for the first time in what seems like forever. you're walking the streets, giggling to yourself as you listen to the songs playing on your walkman. you're walking the streets with hope in your heart and victory on your lips.

you're walking the streets with two new words beating in your brain. 

(lee seungri.)

-o.o.o- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tried to do a second person pov as an outsider pov in this chapter. next chapter will have jiyong!! probably. will edit later?


	13. of dreams and realities (of heartbreak and new beginnings)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seungri and an insight inside his brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't going to add this here but i was convinced otherwise since it holds a lot of important info and foreshadowing. merry christmas by the way!! i've been so busy lately and i'm going to edit this whole story soon so look forward to that?? i also have a snippet ready but that's something for next time. 
> 
> this chapter is going to really dive into the seer part of the fic so if you get lost just shoot me a question

 

**chapter thirteen**

 

Seungri slips through reality sometimes, while walking or sitting or lying down. He loses touch with life at times because dreams intertwine with reality so much that it's hard to see what's real and what’s not.

Sometimes, slipping through reality is sweet and slow, like falling asleep underneath a warm blanket. Sometimes, it feels like coming home to a soft kiss or a warm hug after a long day.

Sometimes, it feels like the slow stretch of a muscle, a low, pleasant ache of his body. Sometimes, it's as simple as waking up in the mornings, an ache that unfurls in his chest when awareness kicks in.

Sometimes, it's as easy as one, two, three.

 

***

 

But sometimes, it feels like standing beneath a falling sword, too fast to escape but trying anyway even though the blade is already wet with his blood.

Sometimes, it feels like the hard press of bodies surrounding him, hot, bright and blinding, as if sucking the air from his lungs little by little. Sometimes, it feels like trying to grab a sail in the midst of a hurricane and feeling it slip through his fingers.

Sometimes, it feels like free-falling off a cliff and not knowing where the ground starts.

Sometimes it feels like getting caught inside a blender, spinning and spinning and spinning until he’s being torn apart.

 

***

 

Sometimes, it feels like ~~living dying~~.

 

***

 

Here are 3 secrets you need to know about Seungri:

 

1\. he can see snippets of other lives he's lived. other lives that would-have-been if this had happened his way or that.

 

2\. he can see into his future if he tries.

 

3\. he can live the lives his other-selves had.

 

-o.o.o-

 

seungri had been curious you see?

there was a man, a man seungri had seen so many times in his dreams and-

he had only wanted to know who he was. (he had only wanted to know his name.)

that man with his gummy smile and pretty eyes, that man with his soft hands and a soft laugh. (he had only wanted to know his name.)

that man who calls him seungri-ah so nicely, that man with his familiar voice and familiar grins. (he had only wanted to know his name.)

so when seungri closed his eyes that night, he decided to do something different.

something dangerous.

-o.o.o-

 

seungri sucks in a slow breath, feels a pulse of heat thrum through him, and opens his eyes to see a familiar star-speckled space around him.

in front of seungri was a vast tree, rising through a galaxy of comets and nebulas with its branches stretched out amongst the constellations.

it was luminescent, breathtaking, more tangible than anything he’s ever seen and seungri knows it's bad of him to think that- knows it's bad of him to think of his parents and friends as any less real than they are but when he's faced with this every time he closes his eyes, he can't help but think it's true.

there's an awareness that fills seungri each time he comes here, an instinctive, impossible knowledge as to where each branch leads: different worlds, different realms, different timelines.

seungri knows that if he stands still too long, if he lets himself linger in one place, he'll be swept into another memory. and usually, he’s ok with that, but he doesn't want that to happen this time; he has something he needs to find.

but seungri's never really thought about choosing a path before, has never contemplated the hows and whys of his power before.

he wants to know who that man is; he wants to know why he calls him seungri-ah so nicely and wants to know who he is to seungri.  
(he had only wanted to know his name.)

his power takes notice of this wish and the path beneath his feet branches out sideways, growing and splitting, reaching for something he couldn’t quite make-out.

seungri takes a look behind him, at the bright wide expanse of stars held out for him, all promising warmth and happiness and laughter before turning to the wide expanse of unexplored paths in front of him.

seungri thinks of warm laughs, warm smiles, warm hands, warm eyes before he takes his first step off his path.

(he wishes he hadn’t.)

-o.o.o-

 

hundreds of lives, futures, realms, possibilities all laid bare beneath his fingertips. some were good, some were ok, some were bad but all of them so, so real.

seungri adored them all because they were all so beautiful. beautiful in the way life inherently was, unpolished, rough and entirely raw but absolutely breathtaking, nonetheless.

he knows how precious life can be, how beautiful it was in all its moments both big and small: a boy’s first kiss, a child’s first embrace, a normally aloof pet sitting in someone’s lap, catching something out of the air and everyone in the room going crazy, the smell of rain in the air, the crackle of lightning in the distance, a sunset fading away, a rainbow in a puddle.

he knows how beautiful life can be.

(but no one told him how scary it could be.)

-o.o.o-

 

it's like falling from a great height, a rush, an explosion of sound in his head and shivers along his spine. he holds in his cry, blindly reaching for something to lean on, and something inside him lurches and seungri _falls_ -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-before he feels the familiar sensation of something shifting, melding, merging.

memories slide into his mind, drops of water down the wall of a dark cave, and he breathes in air that’s clean and sharp with disinfectant.

 _hospital_ , something in him whispers, not him, but not different, either.

his other self.

seungri's first instinct is to look, examine.

to take in everything he can because it's the least he can do, to make sure he remembers. seungri reaches for those not-quite-him bits, turns them over and around to look at them from every angle.

 _accident_ , says one.  _scandal_ , says another, and mixed in between the two are feelings of disappointment, regret, envy, and anger. 

there are also memories that call up pride, contentment, but a whisper of _this is all_ i _am good for_ , i _have to be happy with what_ i _have_ taints them, and seungri wants to frown.

he wants to frown because never in his life has he been content with what he had.

he’s always done better, pushed harder, tried a different path until he accomplished _something_ but this him, just like so many of hims- born somewhere else, to something else- does not have that fierce drive.

they don't have that pride in themselves.

instead, there is a bitter kernel of resentment in this other self's heart, wound through with resignation and a smothered contentment that makes seungri want to _scream_.

but he doesn’t. he takes a deep breath, lets his scream burn in his throat and exhales lowly, feeling the hot indignation slip away from him like water.

-o.o.o-

 

seungri won’t let himself be broken, not like that, never like that. he won't let himself die quietly into the night, he'll take everyone with him, kicking and screaming if he has to.

 

-o.o.o-

 

there is a memory there, of a jump, of a darkened room and a chair toppled over.

there's a memory of newspaper clippings and cold coffee stains on white shirts in empty rooms and seungri swallows, throat scratching dryly as a cold stone drops down his stomach.

he slowly reaches for that last remnant of this seungri's memories and-

there's a whisper, like an apology, like too many regrets to voice in a single moment, and seungri tries to grasp it with mental fingers but it slides away, dissipating into nothingness with a feeling almost like relief.

 

-o.o.o-

 

> there's a body on the bed, surrounded by pills and seungri knows exactly who it is underneath that blanket.
> 
> there's a coffin, closed and covered and seungri knows exactly who it belongs to.
> 
> there's an unmarked grave with sunflowers placed in front of it and seungri knows exactly who was lying beneath it.
> 
> there's an empty room, dust covering every surface and seungri knows exactly who left.
> 
> seungri is alone. alone, alone, alone. they all left. he’s the only one who stayed. they all left.
> 
> (he’s the one they left behind.)

-o.o.o-

 

it feels like loss and despite the fact that they’re not  _his,_  that it's not his world- seungri cries.

 _no_ , seungri screams, but the darkness behind his eyes is too heavy and he, and he, _and he-_

he wakes up.

-o.o.o-

 

he's lying in a hospital with his mom sobbing on his left shoulder and his dad clutching his other arm.

they tell him that he's been in a coma for 2 weeks.

his chest feels so, so empty.

seungri smiles at his parents, a sad and entirely regretful smile as he says, "i'm sorry."

(and deep inside his mind, the vast tree grows a little bigger, a little wider, and its branches reach a little farther.)

 

-o.o.o-

 

his first breath _afterward_ had rattled in his lungs, like it should have been his last, hollow and gasping, and there had been tears on his face and salt on his lips.

his room had felt so very empty, without the things he had- will have- should have had.

he lived the next few days listless, cold and empty because his chest hurt. because he had lost everything: lost his friends, his family, his life, his ~~_love_~~ -

seungri mourns for the people he's lost. he mourns for the future that will never, ever exist if he has anything to say about it.

 

-o.o.o- 

 

> seunghyun had looked at him in his crown, with his mic in hand, and face paint on his cheeks and laughed as if he'd won the lottery and found the meaning of life all at once. "you will be the death of us maknae," he'd said, and it had sounded, seungri had thought, like a promise.

-o.o.o-

 

 _perhaps_ , seungri thinks now, _it was something to fill the emptiness inside of him_. a sad attempt to stop the ache in his chest, because when he met yunho, he couldn't help but cling onto him.

and maybe it was mean of him to cheat and use his future sight to corner yunho; to worm his way into yunho's heart and break down his walls, forcing his way in.

yunho who looks at him with terrified eyes and trembling hands that make seungri almost, _almost_ feel bad about cornering him because he knows there must've been a reason for that.

(and he won't look, he won't look because he's already taken so much from him, so he won’t. seungri won’t take this one thing away from him.)

but yunho is solid. he's real and tangible. he's someone who seungri knows exists. someone he can touch and talk to and seungri _needs_ that.

he needs someone to hold him down and not let him go.

so seungri pushes, he pushes and pushes and takes so much of yunho until one day- he gives in.

one day, he grabs seungri's hand without any hesitation.

one day, he leans in instead of leaning away.

one day, he walks home with him without prompting.

one day, yunho whispered to him, in the late evening with his eyes fixated on the sunset, "i feel like i'm a spider in a cup around you, trapped and entirely at your mercy. i feel like i'm going to wake up one day and find out that it was all a dream. i am _so fucking terrified_ of you."

and seungri had felt his heart beat in guilt because he's so _selfish_ to do this to yunho. 

> ("i'm sorry for breaking you.")

because seungri knows that when yunho needs someone to be there for him in the future, to be his rock and anchor- seungri won't be there.

but seungri wants to try.

_(and god knows he tried so hard to be that person for yunho, but he just couldn't forget about them.)_

 

-o.o.o-

 

> seungri still remembered the way daesung's hair had smelt like: lemon and citrus soap. tangy and sour.
> 
> he'd been playing with seungri's fingers before his head shifted against seungri's neck and he had leaned up to whisper into his ear.
> 
> "i love bigbang," he'd said quietly; it had sounded like a confession made in the dark for no one else to hear.

  
-o.o.o-

 

but the emptiness doesn’t go away. no matter how many songs he writes or how many choreographies he dances with yunho, it never goes away.

spending time with yunho doesn't stop the aching but it makes it a little easier to ignore.

but each and every day the ache in seungri's chest gets stronger and the emptiness inside of him greater, until he thinks that it may very well swallow the world.

 

-o.o.o-

 

> he had made an attempt to grab his hand- uncontrolled, instinctual, borne on blind panic at the thought of that final moment of death- and he'll never forget the absolute terror in youngbae's eyes as their fingers brushed against each other and as he wakes up, he wonders if that youngbae will ever forget it either.
> 
>  

-o.o.o-

 

the next four lives he dreams of ends the same way and seungri wants to thrash, to protest, to call out to the four of them- but it's already too late and it's so _unfair_.

because it was only a memory. a memory of what had happened in another world, in another life where they died and seungri _drowns_ -

and wakes up with his pillow completely soaked. his face was sticky with tears and his throat was dry and hoarse and he-

stop. no more. please.

_(i’ve had enough.)_

_enough_ , he thinks to himself viciously, rubbing his face roughly before he seizes on the patchy memories of that world, not allowing them to disappear into the same darkness that swallowed that world's version of himself but not letting them control his life either. _enough_.

he's his own person. he has his own future. he has own path to walk.

there _must be_ \- must be a future where seungri isn't hurt.

so he digs through them, only sparing a moment of instinctual regret for the invasion of another person's privacy (even if it's his own) and claws out a space for himself in his galaxy of stars and futures and finds a half-forgotten world hidden behind all the others.

this entire world is different from the other worlds he's seen. it's unraveled and half-erased, dwindling at the seams.

in this world, seungri never joined bigbang, never joined the other four and it makes seungri think _oh_ and _he can do that?_ because he's absolutely _terrified_ but at the same time there's an excitement and hope that bubbles up in his chest because this was it: a path that he's where he never meets them.

and it's like he's finally woken up from a dream because seungri feels like he can _breathe_ again. 

 

-o.o.o-

 

> seungri walks into the dorm and jiyong is out on the balcony, eyes closed and neck tilted back against his chair. his eyes open when his footsteps get closer and they burn like amber through smoke as his mouth curls into a fond grin.
> 
> "seungri-ah!" he calls out to him, and his arms are spread open in an invitation and seungri falls into his tight embrace easily.

 

-o.o.o-

 

so seungri plans. he plans and sees and researches ways to change his future.

he plans and he schemes and he writes.

he plans and makes connections and he works his butt off to make sure he succeeds.

he knows it must be scary for her and dad, to see their 5-year-old son change so much.

for their 5-year-old to lost the innocence in his eyes so quickly and have it replaced with an intense fervour.

for their 5-year-old to look at them and see through them at times.

(sometimes, when he hears the quiet sobs in his dreams, he regrets but it’s a fleeting emotion, because above all: seungri is selfish.)

but they support him and seungri is filled with an overwhelming sense of love and affection toward his family. they are his, his family, his home. his mom and dad and soon-to-be-born little sister.

they're _his_ and he won't let anything happen to them.

he remembers a crisis, remembers how he watched on as his parents drove themselves ragged to feed their children. seungri remembers watching his sister, red-faced and gaunt cheeks, screaming for food.

more than that, seungri remembers being too useless to do anything to help.

so seungri takes out his pen:

[asian financial crisis]

and begins to plan for that too.

-o.o.o-

 

> "you know that feeling, when you're standing at the center of a small circle of blowing leaves. or when there's snow falling around you like it's trying to burying you," he says to yunho. "i want to live in that emotion. that broadness. that unexplored anticipation."
> 
> yunho takes a sip of his drink, mulling over his words for a second before he says back: "sounds sad."
> 
>  

-o.o.o-

 

but then jiyong is standing there, eyes wide and innocent, clad in a white jacket and dark green slacks that are absolutely slathered with stickers. he scowls at the crow and it's painfully, familiar voice that yells from behind him.

seungri keeps his body still, ruthlessly stomps down on his irrational urge to turn around and drink in the sight of a healthy, whole,  _alive_  jiyong.

he doesn’t want to see him - not kwon jiyong, not a second chance, not this new life of his own where he's expected to _love-like-hate-want-cry-lose-them_ him again.

he can't.

he doesn't want to feel the weight of them on his shoulders again.

seungri had been ready to die, after all, once upon a time and now? now he was so, so tired, and after everything, he’d been ready to let go or at least follow them. the people he loved. 

but they're all somewhere he can’t follow, dead in another universe entirely, and now another untainted (alive) version of them-him- _him_ - ** _him_** is standing behind seungri.

innocent and alive. and  _right there_ -

seungri resists the urge to break into tears and clenches his fingers into the bark of the tree in front of him. 

 

-o-o-o-

 

i'm scared of getting hurt. i'm still so young, can you blame me?

 

-o-o-o-

 

that jiyong died, but this jiyong is right there, sad and lonely but full of innocence and seungri watches at him, standing in the middle of the forest, and thinks oh, feels it vibrate through him like a tuning fork struck at just the right note and seungri-

seungri should ignore him.

he shouldn't care, he shouldn't even look at him because that way only leads to pain but there's an empty place inside his chest that’s the size and shape of a shattered bond; it whispers _jiyong, jiyong, jiyong_ like the whole goddamn world was ending and seungri _can't_.

because he's right there and he's so young and seungri finds himself looking away, out over to the trees, searching for anything to distract him but it doesn't work because kwon jiyong is there and he's young and vulnerable and _sad_.

he takes in a shuddering breath and thinks, again, of jiyong in that coffin dressed in white, of the quiet moments with daesung in the days before his death, of praying in church with youngbae before his accident, of seunghyun clutching his hand like a child and whispering _please_ because they were the only ones left.

seungri tried so hard not to let his dreams get to him but their deaths had broken something in him, a little.

he's always been the one to die first, the one who left, but in that life he didn't. in that life he survived and grew and lived on, and now-

 _and now;_   _now none of that has happened nor will it ever happen._

and he's fine with that. he's fine with losing all of it if it means he won't have to feel that loneliness again.

it’s a hopeful thought, and for his own sake, he chooses to believe it.

 

-o.o.o- 

 

> "you're so selfish seungri-ah." he says brokenly, rubbing an arm across his face, pressing it roughly against his eyes.
> 
> seungri can't say anything to refute his accusation.

-o.o.o-

 

seungri wants to run but his feet are rooted to the floor. he needs to run, he needs to 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_fall_

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 .

"hey," a voice- a very familiar voice- says aloud. "i know you’re there."

 

 

-o-o-o-

 

seungri falls, drifting quietly into a would-be memory, a would-be future and light blooms behind his eyelids.

he sees light, a room with cameras and a simple white backdrop.

there are two people sitting in front of the cameras: a woman in a pink dress and a man in a blue sweatshirt and casual jeans.

they’re laughing at something, chatting with each other easily and seungri doesn’t understand what triggered this vision but he’s oh, so grateful for it.

anything, anything at all to taking his mind off of-

"so tell us, it’s been 10 years since bigbang has existed."

seungri freezes and a half-formed cry gets caught in his chest.

sometimes... just sometimes, he hates his power. hates how bipolar it was.

(because why bother warning him away from bigbang in the first place if all it does afterwards is him towards them?)

_(why bother?)_

"that is such a long time for a band to exist," the woman says admiringly, "it makes me wonder… if you could go back in time 10 years, what would you do differently? what would you choose to do differently?"

"10 years," the man- seungri, an _older_ seungri- repeats. "10 years huh?"

he pauses and an unreadable look flits across his face before he breaks out into a soft smile, "ah, but i chose this life. i chose to walk this path and..."

the woman leans closer, an intrigued look on her face and she encourages him to continue on, "yes?"

"i’m happy." older seungri laughs cheerfully, eyes twinkling with warmth and says again, "i’m very happy right now."

seungri’s breath hitches in his throat at the older seungri’s happy expression, at the sheer warmth and love on his face.

the woman leans back with an exasperated but not-entirely-surprised look on her face. "i guess i should’ve expected that."

she purses her lips before, "then how about: what would you advice would your younger self if you could?"

older seungri quirks his lips and an amused, knowing light flickers in his eyes, he glances at some(one)thing as quick as lightning before grinning mischievously. "don’t be so afraid of getting hurt you big, selfish, baby."

the woman raises a bemused eyebrow, "a bit harsh don’t you think?"

older seungri laughs, bright and pleased, "oh it’s what i’d need to hear."

and his laugh is the last thing seungri hears before he’s falling all over again.

 

-o.o.o-

 

"is he really happy?"

 

-o.o.o-

 

"it really is you," seungri says, and smiles at him, him with his child-like innocence, entirely unprepared for the world that could swallow him whole if he wasn't careful enough and he ignores the ache that comes with that thought. "you are the singer in little roora!"

it feels silly, to act as if he didn't know him, as if he didn't know him better than he did himself and it makes him grin a little as he meets kwon jiyong's wary gaze.

"i'm not in that group anymore," kwon jiyong says, his cheeks are all puffed out and he’s absolutely _adorable_ seungri thinks with faint amusement, "it's disbanded. we're not together anymore."

seungri has to make sure not to show any hint of a smile on his face when he toes the ground, "i know. i was really sad too."

he looks back up at kwon jiyong as the other carefully watches him for any hint of falseness, before- "but i really, really like your voice."

kwon jiyong doesn't say anything for a second, eyes watering a little as if in shock and it makes something inside seungri ache because that's not how jiyong should be.

he should be confident in himself, he should know that he's absolutely perfect and not feel insecure about his voice.

seungri smiles at him, spreading his arms.

"yeah! i wanna become a singer too, you know?" he whispers to jiyong, with a secret curve on his lips and mischief twinkling in his eyes, "i've been practicing. do you wanna hear?"

there’s a pause that has seungri sweating, heart in his throat because-oh-my-hananim-what-if-he-just-messed-up before kwon jiyong looks him over. one long sweep, head to toes, and seungri sees a tentative hope building up in his eyes before jiyong says, "yes."

seungri breathes a sigh of relief, entirely willing to take it as a peace offering, as an invitation, and he laughs. "great!"

kwon jiyong lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh, head facing away from him before he says, "ok then."

the trick with dealing with kwon jiyong is to outlast his stubbornness, seungri thinks, amused, and reaches up to tug on his hand. kwon jiyong makes a noise of disgruntled annoyance, but-

he's smiling, just a little.

it tugs at seungri’s heart.

seungri can't remember the last time he saw jiyong smile without blood tainting it.

 

-o.o.o-

 

kwon jiyong doesn’t want to sing. seungri can see it in his eyes, he doesn’t want to sing. it makes him want to laugh because kwon jiyong- _the_  kwon jiyong, _the golden boy of the music industry_ \- doesn’t want to sing.

_what has this world turned into?_

_"i've never seen anyone like you before. but i wanna take you away."_ seungri looks at kwon jiyong and he feels his heart swells when a spots the wonder on his face and for a second, he gets lost in the look in jiyong's eyes, savors the rare chance to just look at the boy and completely loses track of what he’s saying.

he's always found kwon jiyong's eyes to be beautiful, the way it shone with all his emotions was endearing, and fondness swells up in him so forcefully that it actually manages to beat out his fears and concerns for a moment.

 

-o.o.o-

 

kwon jiyong falls apart in his arms, a parody of a vision seungri had seen once, only this time they’re much more innocent and everything hurts far less because seungri knows he can actually fix this.

 

-o.o.o-

 

> "i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry. i ruined everything, i can’t- i can’t-" he gasps into the hollow of his throat, fingers clutching at seungri’s hair wildly.
> 
> jiyong whispers something into his skin and seungri strains his ears to hear a muffled, "please don’t leave me."
> 
> "never," seungri promises, and he holds him tighter, "i won’t leave you, i promise. i’ll always save you."
> 
> "always?"
> 
> "always."

-o.o.o-

 

"seungri?"

seungri hums lazily, half of his body protesting any movement of any kind, while the other half protested the thought of being rude. "yeah?"

"i like singing." kwon jiyong whispers to him. seungri can feel his heart racing beneath fingers and an unbiden surge of warmth washes through him.

seungri’s shifts against his chest and glances at kwon jiyong’s vulnerable face, his eyes were still red-rimmed and watery. seungri wonders if he was going to cry again. "ok."

"i really, really like singing you know?" kwon jiyong says again, almost as if he were trying to convince seungri, or himself.

there’s a ring of truth in his words though, so seungri hugs him again and says to him, just as earnest, "i know, hyung. you already told me."

 

-o.o.o-

 

seungri waves goodbye at kwon jiyong, and pretends he doesn’t wants to burst into tears or fall apart, and he guesses it works because kwon jiyong is smiling back at him. a smile that’s little less sad and a little more bright; waving at him and mouthing that he’d be here again tomorrow.

and seungri manages to keep the smile on his face until he’s absolutely certain that kwon jiyong is gone before he kneels down and curls into a ball, wrapping his arms around his body.

 _this is my choice,_ he thinks, remembering that (un)familiar face in front of him and his (un)familiar voice in his ears. he tries to stop the tremble in his hands.

he thinks to himself, _some things never change._

 

-o.o.o-

 

kwon jiyong, age 30.

(seungri-ah, warm hands cupping his cheeks, soft eyes gazing from the side, muted words, see you later, military clothing, hair cropped short, leaving.)

kwon jiyong, age 23.

(red-rimmed eyes, tired bags, shaky hands, raspy voice, strained smiles, fake smiles.)

kwon jiyong, age 21.

(the muffled screams and tears soaking his shoulder, the way the light fading from his eyes, blue lips from the shine of the tv screen, ruffled hair.)

kwon jiyong, age 19.

(cold eyes, resentful remarks, wrinkles on his forehead, hoarse voice, sobs late at night.)

kwon jiyong, age 8.

(watery eyes, small back, baby fat, shy smiles, bubbly laughter.)

 

-o.o.o-

 

jiyong is years dead to him, lost forever, never to be found. but this jiyong…

while this may not be _his_ jiyong but it is certainly _a_ jiyong, and maybe that's enough for him.

this is some version of his leader, still warm brown eyes, gummy smiles, ink-stained hands, and furnace-warm beneath seungri's touch exists.

and seungri is absolutely _terrified_ of him. he’s terrified of getting hurt.

but he thinks of yunho, hands trembling in his and the sunset washing red and yellow on his face as he whispered to him "i’m so scared but i want you to be worth it."

but he thinks his future self, face alight with happiness when he said aloud, "i’m happy."

seungri takes in a deep, shuddering breath and thinks, slowly, hesitantly, hopefully: _i want to try._

and that’s a start.

-o.o.o-

 

"this doesn’t mean i want to join bigbang," seungri mutters petulantly when he’s asleep again that night; rubbing his face roughly and hiding his displeased pout when he feels the branches around him curl closer.

"really," seungri insists, pouting even more when new branches- branches holding paths to what could only be the unmistakable figure of kwon jiyong out to him.

"i’m not. it's just kwon jiyong. not bigbang."

and in the distance, a soft amused voice answers him, "yes, yes."

 

-o.o.o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to go back and do some hardcore editing on previous chapters later this week so watch out for that!! thank you for reading and tell me whatchu think about this, about seungri's mindset, about what he's feeling.


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